


At Sunset

by Top_Hatted_Octopus



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Temporary Canonical Major Character Death, Time-Hop, humor?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-11-12 08:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Top_Hatted_Octopus/pseuds/Top_Hatted_Octopus
Summary: Story starts AU and then follows the real relationship between Jack and James throughout the first three Pirates of the Caribbean movies. Mostly follows cannon, but will have AU elements and is completely AU after At World's End (I am ignoring the last two films).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: 
> 
> Although I have done research, there will most likely be many historical inaccuracies, as well as mistakes in regards to character biography - for the sake of this story, please ignore them. 
> 
> No beta-reader, so all mistakes are mine - feel free to point any out, when proof reading myself they can be easy to overlook.
> 
> This story will often skip through 'time/scenes' throughout the first three films, so having a good understanding of the plot will be an advantage.
> 
> Disclaimer: 
> 
> I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or anything related to the franchise.

**PRELUDE**

 

 

_**1723** _

_**North Atlantic Ocean, HMS Anchorage** _

 

After the sweltering heat of an august sun, the breeze that accompanied sundown was a welcome relief for the HMS Anchorage and her crew as they made head for England.

Leaning against the starboard rail, midshipman James Norrington spread his wetted fingers across the back of his neck, sighing as the water soothed his overheated skin.

“Now that's a sight, innit, Jamie?”

James, neither surprised by the man who appeared as his side, nor feeling unwelcome of his company, allowed his lips to curl upward in amusement, sparing him a glance. “And what sight would that be, Jack?”

The other man, only a few scant years older than he, smirked and leant back against the rail, nodding towards the portside.

Humouring him, James turned and quirked a brow. “The sunset?”

“Aye. Grand, ain't it? Nothing like seeing the sun sink back into the sea's embrace.” Jack's brow creased then.

“What is it?”

“'Tis a shame to be going back to Mother England.” He sighed. “She may be bonny an' all that, but she ain't nothin' like being at sea.”

James chuckled before admitting quietly; “I couldn't agree with you more.”

A moment of companionable silence was shared until Jack turned to him with a glint in his eye that could only be described as a mischievous. “If yer doing nothin' else, come with me, there's something I wanted ta show yer down in the hold.”

James licked his suddenly dry lips, his pulse suddenly thumping under the skin of his neck. “Oh? And what might that be?” But of course, this game was one he knew well.

The other man simply smirked again and strode away, ducking below the deck and disappearing from sight.

Trying in vein to suppress his smile, James took a swig of water before pocketing the flask and following Jack.

James had barely made it into the dimly lit hold before an arm snaked from between the tightly packed crates and pulled him deeper into the shadows.

Knowing no one could see them, James grinned openly, allowing himself to be towed forth before he was spun and pressed against the curved hull of the ship.

Hot, dry lips claimed his and he opened his mouth, tongue engaging in a sliding battle with Jack's as the older man pressed flush against him.

Sometime later, James lay in the cramped space, his still stockinged legs entwined with Jack's and head on the other man's chest. Listening to the steady thumping under his ear, James felt content and knew that if Jack were with him, he would be happy to lay here forever.

The sudden realisation hit him with as much force as a cannon ball and, as he lay in stunned silence, realised that propriety, logic and even God could damn him, for James Norrington was in love with Jack Sparrow.

 

 

 

_**1724** _

_**Celtic Sea, HMS Anchorage** _

 

“Jack?”

“Hmm?” Came the grunted reply, one tanned arm tightening around the Lieutenant's waist.

“It's time.” James said, his voice steady despite his growing disappointment.

“Five more minutes.” The words were muffled and spoken into his hair.

James ran his hand along Jack's arm, chuckling softly before sobering. “We can't. You were nearly caught last time.”

“Yer no fun at all.” There was a brief pause, followed by a sigh. “Oh very well.”

James felt Jack shift behind him, and took the opportunity to kiss the elder's hand as it withdrew.

Sitting up, he watched as Jack dressed, finishing by pulling on his boots and neatly tying back his mane of dark hair.

“There, see now? All presentable like.” Jack's words were spoken light-heartedly, but James didn't miss their hard undercurrent.

He caught the other man's hand as he made for the door. “What's the matter?”

Jack sighed and turned to face him, before sitting heavily upon the end of the bed. “I wish we didn't have ta hide.” He muttered after a moment.

James raised an eyebrow. “But you know why we must.”

Another sigh, followed by a sharp nod. “Aye. Short drop, sudden stop.”

“Indeed.”

“Jamie...have yer ever – would yer ever...never mind.”

James frowned. “Would I ever what?”

Dark eyes bored into his. “We will never be accepted 'ere, luv.”

It was James' turn to sigh and he looked away. “I know.”

“If...if y-we left the navy...there are certain places where we would.”

James barked a mirthless laugh. “Where on earth would accept two sodomites, Jack?”

“Well...on _certain_ ships-”

James gave him a sardonic smile. “Piracy, Jack?” Mirth did overtake him then, but it quickly died off with a choke under Jack's steady gaze. “You're serious?”

“As the plague, mate.”

James stared at him for the space of several moments, but Jack, it seemed, was indeed serious. “That is the most nonsensical thing to have ever crossed your lips.”

The other man frowned, his eyes flashing in recognisable annoyance. “And whys that?”

James spluttered indignantly. “Are you mad? Pirates are vile, degenerate and greedy. And, aside from that, I-we have a _duty_ to our Country! It would be best if you never think these preposterous thoughts again.”

Jack regarded him for a moment and James found that he couldn't decipher his lover's expression. Disappointment perhaps? Sadness? Resolution? A touch of anger? Some combination of all four?

Jack stood and James forgot about trying to read him, instead rushing from the bed and stopping the other man before he could leave. “Jack, wait.”

“Hmm?” Came the non-committal reply.

“I love you, and I know this life will never be easy, but we have each other.”

Jack turned to face him and although his expression remained impassive, his dark eyes were soft, though touched with sadness. He lifted one hand to cup James' jaw and his lips descended soon after, capturing the younger man's in the most gentle of kisses.

Withdrawing, Jack leant close, his words murmured and spoken directly into his ear. “You own me heart, Jamie. I hope yer remember that.” And he was gone from the cabin in the next moment, leaving James wondering why Jack's words felt so much like a goodbye.

 

 

 

_**1724** _

_**English Channel, HMS Anchorage** _

 

_**Two weeks later** _

 

James woke to a cold bed, an empty bed. He frowned and sat up, the sheets pooling at his waist. It was rare to Jack to wake before James when he stayed, rarer still to find the other man already gone; and apparently well before dawn.

James lay back with a sigh and rolled over, his cheek crumpling the unseen note that lay on the other pillow.

Sitting up once more, he snatched up the scrap of paper and read Jack's scrawled – surprisingly well written – words, barely managing to make them out in the limited moonlight streaming in through the porthole.

He'd read the note three times, unable to comprehend the words, until finally...finally they sank in and the blood drained from his face.

 

_Jamie,_

 

_This ain't how I wanted to tell you, but it seemed I lacked the courage, luv. Still do, in fact. All I will say is that there are certain things about me that will come to light by morning._

_All of them are true I'm afraid._

_It doesn't really need to be said that I will have already left by then. Just know that I meant what I said. You own me heart, have since we first met._

 

_Take care James. Perhaps one day we'll meet again under a different sunset._

 

_\- Jack._

 

James was dressed and out of his cabin moments later, bursting onto the main deck and looking hopelessly around, knowing that Jack would, in fact, be already gone. He didn't even need to check to see if the cockboat was still aboard, he knew it wouldn't be.

Coming up to the starboard rail, James rested his hand against the smooth wood, gazing morosely out to sea. It must have been by some miracle that he managed to spot the small row-boat, but a spec in the distance under the haze of moonlight.

It was as he turned about to call attention, that he noticed the legs peaking out from under the quarterdeck stairs. Rushing over, he was relieved to find that the man was alive, but unconscious from a blow to the head.

James soon found three more men just like him and, though it hurt, he was duty-bound to alert the Captain.

The next several hours passed in a rush he didn't ever care to remember. But alas, he did all too well. Finding out the rudder chain had been disabled, that official missives where missing as well as the ship's log were but a few of the distressing discoveries made that night. Not to mention that a good portion of stock, including the Captain's and crew's personal valuables were gone too.

Countless questions, weeks, and an investigation later, the evidence and facts had become all too clear. HMS Anchorage had had a fox in the hen-house. A pirate cavorting as a naval man.

But, as bad as it seemed, that wasn't the worst part. Five English Man of War's had been attacked simultaneously, the enemy now possessing valuable information regarding the fleet's orders and the inner workings of a naval vessel. And, no doubt, all because of Jack Sparrow.

With the revelation that the King's most powerful ships were now vulnerable, James fell into bed aboard the Anchorage, now in port, an overwhelming feeling of sickness and betrayal curling in the pit of his stomach.

Jack Sparrow was a pirate, always had been it seemed. He had played James like a finely strung harp, blinding him to Jack's, at times, odder than normal behaviour. Behaviour he was only now beginning to recognise for what it was; suspicious and up to no good.

James could have prevented it, he realised. If he hadn't been so overcome by his damned emotions for that _pirate_ , he would have seen what Jack had been up to ever since he first boarded the Anchorage.

James had never felt more like a fool.

Finally alone, and with no one to watch, he allowed himself a moment to really feel the sting of Jack's betrayal.

A long while later, his face shamefully wet and heart aching, James fell into oblivion's embrace, his last thoughts a vow that he would see every pirate hang for their crimes. Jack Sparrow included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a prelude. 
> 
> Feedback is most welcome.
> 
> Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

 

_**1737** _

_**Fort Charles, Port Royal** _

 

_**Thirteen years later** _

 

Elizabeth Swann was a handsome woman indeed. Gone was the young, curious girl from the crossing from England, and in her place stood the strong and sharp-witted woman she'd become.

Perhaps that fire was why James had been drawn to her; the only women to have ever held his attention romantically or otherwise.

Sodomite. The word tasted like ash in his mouth, his one true secret and sin. Having repressed that immoral side of himself for more than a decade, James had finally begun to feel free from his past transgressions. Now that he had made Commodore, it seemed only fitting that he take that one final step to free himself from his sin and to step forth as any moral man should.

Approaching Elizabeth, James wetted his suddenly dry lips, feeling more than just a touch of apprehension. “May I have a moment?”

Fan fluttering at her throat, she gave him a small smile of acquiescence and he guided her towards the parapet overlooking the harbour.

“I-You look lovely, Elizabeth.” James swallowed thickly before forcing the words passed his lips – clumsy though they were. “I-er apologise if I seem forward, but I must speak my mind.” He paused, trying in vein to find the right words. “This promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved.” Gathering his courage, he turned to face her. “A marriage to a fine women.” His gaze was intent. “You have become a fine woman, Elizabeth.”

Eyes wide, she sucked in a sharp breath. “I can't breathe.”

James turned away once more, unable to gaze upon her when she was dressed so finely, her sun-kissed hair pinned up and warm eyes staring with shock into his.

He couldn't help but admit; “Yes, I-I'm a bit nervous myself.”

Silence met his admission and when he turned, Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. “Elizabeth?”

With a sudden sickening feeling he looked over the parapet to see the disturbed water at the base of the fort. She had fallen. “ _Elizabeth!_ ”

Without thinking of the consequences, he began to shed his coat, fully prepared to dive in after her.

However, his shout had alerted the nearby officers and soon Gillette was by his side, hand on his arm. “The rocks! Sir, it's a miracle she missed them.”

A fair point, one that James couldn't argue with. After a mere moments hesitation he turned on his heel and called his men to follow him down to the wharf where the water would be more easily accessible.

He could only hope that he arrived in time to save her.

Precious minutes later, James, red-coats hot on his heels, rushed along the wharf, but, to his astonishment and relief, Elizabeth had already been rescued; a waterlogged man crouching over her.

However, his relief soon gave way to red-hot anger as he took in her vulnerable form, fear palpable even from here. As he drew closer, he saw that her fine gown was gone and all that now clothed Elizabeth was her thin, sodden, and nearly translucent undergarments.

As he approached, the man gave her no distance and, rescuer or not, James didn't think, simply withdrew his sword and thrust it beneath his chin. “On your feet.”

Dark eyes met his before the man looked down at his sword-tip and slowly rose.

Sparing the briefest glance to see Elizabeth was being helped by her father, James looked back at her saviour.

A pirate he was, that much was clear to James. An assumption based, if for no other reason, than on the man's attire and unkempt appearance. All too in-fitting against the many pirates he was encountered previously. But, as James looked even more closely, he realised that there was something familiar about this particular pirate. Something in his straight nose and sharp jaw. And those eyes...even though the pirate wasn't looking at him, James just _knew_ those eyes, their depth, the way they appeared almost completely black, save for when in direct sunlight.

James felt his mouth set into a firm line. For years he had been searching, perhaps indirectly, but always looking for him. And now, thirteen years later Jack Sparrow had fallen, almost literally, into his lap.

James should have accused him then, but found that the words refused to cross his lips. Why? He couldn't fathom. It certainly wasn't out of fear of Jack exposing his own sins. After all, it was a pirate's word against a respected naval officer's. But perhaps it had something do to with the unexpected proximity to the man he'd once loved, something which, he was ashamed to admit, even after all of this time suddenly unnerved him.

Without doubt, his feelings had long since died for the pirate, yet James couldn't help but wonder – why was his throat suddenly so dry, heart racing and sweat beading on his palms?

Jack, however, was acting entirely ignorant of James' presence. Was that to mean that the pirate didn't even recognise him? It only served to encourage his ire further.

“Shoot him.” The command from Governor Swann – at seeing that Elizabeth's bodice had been removed by Jack – pulled James from his thoughts; but before said shooting could commence, Elizabeth interrupted.

“Father! Commodore, do you intend to kill my rescuer?”

James found himself, once again, starring at the pirate and saw the moment that Jack realised exactly _who_ James was. And not merely because he was the man renowned for his success at pirate hunting.

Surprisingly, Jack said nothing and James, still somewhat in a state of shock, momentarily conceded to Elizabeth's words; re-sheathing his sword and scowling at the answering smirk of victory on the pirate's lips.

_Was that his expression as he stole away from the Anchorage all those years ago?_

That thought washed away the last of James' uneasiness and he knew just what course of action to take in preventing the pirate slipping through his fingers. “I believe thanks are in order.” He said coolly, holding out his hand for the pirate to clasp, careful to keep his expression stoic. No sooner than Jack had placed his hand in James', the Commodore tightened his grip and hauled the pirate forward.

Having heard the rumours of a previous capture, James lifted Jack's dirty sleeve to reveal the P branded onto the tanned skin. “Had a brush with the East India Trading Company, did we, pirate?”

Jack winced as Governor Swann bristled. “Hang him.”

“Keep your guns on him, men. Gillette, fetch some irons.” James commanded before raising Jack's sleeve further, already knowing what he'd see there. The tattoo. “Well, well, Jack Sparrow, isn't it?” His indifference deliberate.

“ _Captain_ Jack Sparrow if you please, sir.”

Determined not to be affected by the gravelly voice that still haunted his dreams, James very nearly scoffed. “Well I don't see your ship, _Captain._ ”

Dark eyes flashed, thought whether in annoyance or something else, James wasn't sure. “I'm in the market as it were.”

Murtogg spoke up then. “He said he's come to commander one.”

“I told you he was telling the truth.” Mullroy said and James fought a sigh – their verbal games well known throughout the ranks. “These are his, sir.” He added, stooping down to pick up Jack's belongings.

As James eyed Jack's things, he couldn't stop the sudden, perhaps cruel, urge to undermine the pirate.

“No additional shot, nor powder.” He said, examining the pistol before replacing it and retrieving the next object. “A compass that doesn't point north.” He didn't bother to suppress his smirk at Jack's obvious discomfort. “And I half expected it to be made of wood.” He finished, re-sheathing the sword. He couldn't resist one final gibe. “You are without doubt the worst pirate I have ever heard of.”

Jack's eyes bored into his with sudden intensity, almost mocking in fact. “But you have heard of me.”

Those words, coupled with that taunting voice caused his anger to peak. And, in that moment, James was fairly certain that he was about to strike him. However, at the last moment, he grasped Jack's arm instead and propelled him towards Gillette and the irons that awaited him.

“Commodore, I really must protest.”

Ah yes, Elizabeth. James was ashamed to admit he had quite forgotten about her. Still that did not stop him cautioning his officer. “Carefully, Lieutenant.”

Elizabeth was suddenly in front of him. “Pirate or not, this man saved my life.”

James fought for patience at her naivety. “One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness.”

Jack chose that moment to interrupt. “Though it seems enough to condemn him.”

James levelled him with a hard stare. “Indeed.”

“Finally.” That one word was barely audible and a moment later the pirate had the chain of his irons wrapped firmly around Elizabeth's neck.

“No! No, don't shoot.”

James, belatedly, realised his mistake over not taking more precautions with Jack's security, and barely registered Governor Swann's shout, too overcome by fear and the realisation that Elizabeth would pay for his misjudgement.

“I knew you'd warm up to me.” Jack said into Elizabeth's ear before addressing James. “Commodore Norrington, my effects please – and my hat.”

James didn't move, couldn't in fact. His blood pounding in his ears both in fear for Elizabeth's life and the knowledge that Jack would escape if he did so.

“ _Commodore_.”

His title, stressed on Jack's lips, forced him into action and he retrieved the pirate's belongings, passing them to Elizabeth, his lips thin with displeasure.

The next few moments passed in near torture as James watched as Elizabeth was forced by gunpoint to follow the pirate's orders and listen to his lewd words, each one incensing James all the more.

“Now if you'll be very kind.” Jack's gaze met his over Elizabeth's shoulder and James flushed hot under it's old and familiar intensity. He glared back before looking away, unable to lock gazes without feeling a whirl of emotions he had thought himself long immune to.

“Gentlemen, M'lady.” Jack announced once Elizabeth had finished dressing him with his effects. “You will always remember this as the day that you _almost_ caught Captain Jack Sparrow!”

 

 

________ 

 

 

Commodore Norrington knew that it would only be a matter of time before they caught Jack, and he'd been right, with thanks to the blacksmith of course. Port Royal would once again rest easy knowing that the pirate was locked away.

As James sat behind his desk in the fort, he should have been pleased, _was_ pleased he told himself, but then there was this unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. One that wouldn't remove itself, no matter what he did to try and relieve said uneasiness.

And why should he feel unrest? Jack was to hang on the morn and that was what his vow – not to mention duty – demanded. And it was what he'd always wanted...

Unable to stand the silence that consumed his office, James took to stretching his legs about the fort. It was entirely a coincidence that he ended up outside the prison a short while later.

Then, of course, he spent several moments dithering over whether to see Jack. He had no need or want to after all. And besides, he'd see Jack soon enough when the man was strung up on the hangman's noose -

_Damn that infernal pirate to the deepest reaches of hell._

James walked brusquely into the cellblock, noting with relief that said cells – at least in this part – were blessedly empty.

As he descended further into the dank prison no officers greeted him either and the pirate was alone, lounging about the place, as no doubt usual, tricorne tilted over his face as he reclined against the far wall.

With a click of heels, James came to a stop outside Jack's cell, his back no less than ramrod straight and hands neatly folded behind.

“I knew you'd come ta me.” With a tilt of his head, Jack's gaze pierced though James even in the dim light.

“Is that so?” His words were cool, clipped, face determinedly impassive.

“Aye.” A flash of gold as the pirate grinned, he didn't elaborate. “I gotta say, I think I preferred the brown wig, mate.”

“Then it comes as a relief that I don't value your opinion.” The disdain was dripping.

Jack suddenly uncurled from his seated position and ambled his way over to the bars, wrapping one hand around the cool iron.

He stood too close for comfort, but James refused to step away on principle.

“Is that so, Jamie-luv?” Jack taunted, echoing his earlier words.

“Don't call me that.” James snapped. Already the pirate was getting under his skin and displacing the indifferent mask he wore.

“See now!” And he banged his hand against the bars gleefully. “There's the James I remember. Glad the good ol' navy ain't snuffed yer flame after all.”

James narrowed his eyes without conscious thought. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” He asked against his better judgement.

Jack rocked back on his heels, an easy grin curling his mouth. “Just that you weren't always such an uptight, pompous- _wait!_ ”

His feet stopped of their own accord, back towards the pirate and already several paces from the cell. “I have no wish to be insulted by the likes of you.”

“Ah.”

Silence followed and James pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes raised heavenward. It seemed that he was unable to help himself, for moments later he turned and stalked back towards Jack.

The pirate's expression was unreadable, but his body relaxed and he leant against the bars as James approached.

“Why are you here, Sparrow?”

His eyebrows shot above the brim of his hat. “I'd have thought that obvious, mate. Can't exactly go nowhere what with yer holding me prisoner an' all.”

James stepped closer, threateningly, his jaw rigid, but managed to grit out; “Port. Royal.”

Suddenly, Jack straightened and was standing directly in front of him, a mere few inches between them. “Well, why didn't yer say so?”

He continued before James could act on the impulse to throttle him. “I thought I'd pay a visit to an ol' friend.”

James snorted. “Mister Murtogg said you'd come to commander a ship. I merely wish to know if that is true”

“Now why would I do that, Jamie-luv?”

James breathed in slowly, and exhaled equally so. “You're a pirate.”

“Aye. But whose ta say I'm really not here simply to visit a friend o'mine?”

This was going nowhere fast and James was swiftly loosing all patience.

“Besides,” Jack added. “I've found you ain't I?”

Of course Jack was trying to divert from the fact that he had, indeed, come to take a ship. However, frustration finally won over and James fell for the bait, leaning those few inches closer, hand clenching around the iron bars. “You and I have _never_ been friends, Sparrow.” He all but spat.

Suddenly, James found his hand trapped, Jack's own tan fingers closing around his and holding him hostage. The pirate's breath washed against his face and it smelled of rum. “Aye. We were lovers-”

“ _Keep your voice down!”_ James hissed, glancing with fright over his shoulder. The prison was thankfully still empty.

“Still hidin' in the sheets, I see.”

James gave Jack a hard glare. “That is no concern of yours.”

“Ah, but that's where yer wrong, Jamie-luv. If I recall, you loved me-”

James interrupted, voice low and venomous. “A mistake I have surely leant from.”

Jack's gaze was unreadable and he looked down, humming low in his throat.

Suddenly, brown – almost black – eyes flipped up and locked onto his. James would never admit, even under pain of death, that their intensity sole what little breath he had left.

“You've become a fine man, James.”

James felt his eyes narrow. Just what did the pirate mean by that? Surely that was code for some sort of insult.

Jack's free hand wriggled through the bars and James found he couldn't move away as one sly finger reached out to trace the edge of his jaw, fire following in it's wake. “A fine man indeed.”

James opened his mouth, what he was to say he'd never know, for the clatter of footsteps came and James wrenched away from Sparrow's cell. His ease at escaping the pirate's clutches due to the fact that Jack had released his hand at the first sound of company.

By the time Gillette emerged at the bottom of the staircase, Jack was once again lounging in the far reaches of his cell and James stood a respectful distance from the bars.

“Commodore! Sir, a ship has been captured.”

James turned to face Gillette, Jack, mostly, forgotten at the back of his mind. “A ship?”

“Yes, sir. Pirates. Lieutenant Groves is bringing in the captives now, sir.”

James' smirk was small, but undeniably smug. “Very good, Lieutenant. Please see to it that our 'guests' are put in the cell next to Sparrow's-”

“ _Captain!_ ”

“-I'm sure he would be glad of their company come morning.”

“Yes, Commodore. I'll see to it at once.” And Gillette disappeared back up the staircase.

James made to follow immediately, but some unseen force caused him to pause on the bottom step.

A moment later, and with a final glance at Jack – whose gaze was unreadable – he ascended.

James knew then that the next time he saw _Captain_ Jack Sparrow it would be as the pirate was lead to the gallows. His vow to hang his former lover would finally be complete...

James told himself that the unease – which now churned in his gut stronger than ever – was merely due to anticipation.

Honestly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone disappointed by the reunion between Jack and James, I did say this story would mostly follow cannon, and I wanted to portray what might have been going on in the Commodore's head had they actually been former lovers...
> 
> So...thoughts? Thoughts are always good.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER TWO**

 

 

_**1737** _

_**Caribbean sea, HMS Dauntless** _

 

_**Some one - two weeks later** _

 

Twice Jack Sparrow had disabled the rudder chain to keep from being pursued, and twice the Commodore had fallen for such a trick. He wasn't sure whether he was more angry at the pirate or himself, but nonetheless, James was still seething with fury.

The only feeling that managed to overcome his anger was his fear for Elizabeth's life. James could only imagine what she was having to endure at the hand of those foul pirates aboard the Black Pearl.

The Dauntless was in pursuit of course, but without a whisper on the wind of the legend ship whose mast's bore black sails, James was regretful to say that they had no true heading.

He'd even gotten no tell of the whereabouts of the Interceptor, and god only knew what Jack Sparrow and the young Turner boy had done to his ship.

 _Jack Sparrow_. The very thought of him bought a scowl to James' lips as he stood next to the helm. The pirate had turned out to be slipperier than an eel and twice as devious as any pirate James had ever encountered, even managing to persuade William, whom James had thought to be a good man, into the lure of piracy.

This time, when James caught Jack, and he _would_ , he'd be prepared, make no mistake about that. He was determined to see that the pirate would indeed pay for his crimes one way or another. As for Turner...well, in all honesty James wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do about him just yet.

To James' satisfaction capturing Jack Sparrow came sooner than he could ever had dreamt of – for not hours later a shout was raised, smoke having been spotted in the distance, towering into the sky off the starboard side.

They made anchor near the small island and James sent Lieutenant Gillette, along with two other sailors, to investigate. It was only a short wait before the cockboat returned and, to his shock, it carried _both_ Elizabeth and Jack. However, his surprise over discovering them, and together of all things, was soon swept away upon a tide of relief at seeing Elizabeth well and alive, even underdressed as she was.

With Elizabeth returned and Jack Sparrow within his grasp, James was in agreement with Governor Swann to return to Port Royal, Elizabeth however, would not go so easily and she argued that William was still endanger.

A fair point he could concede, but the boy _had_ turned to piracy and was now considered a fugitive – though James was reluctant to hand out punishment. The boy may have acted rash, but his intentions were in the right place.

Perhaps it would be better if Turner remained at large...

Of course, Elizabeth still had one hand to play.

“Commodore, I beg you please do this, for me...as a wedding gift.”

James stilled upon the quarterdeck stairs.

He liked to think he was an attentive man, but in that moment, knew it to be untruth, having – after all that had come about – quite forgotten his proposal to Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth, are you accepting the Commodore's proposal?” Governor Swann sounded pleased and James knew he should feel so too. However, instead he was left reeling.

James gazed down at Elizabeth and she gazed back, eyes determined and sincere. “I am.”

Before he could even conjure up some sort of reaction, Jack chose that moment to interrupt.

“Weddings! I love weddings, drinks all around.”

James shot him a cool look and the enthusiastic pirate wilted under his gaze. What he was so happy about, James couldn't fathom.

 _See? He doesn't care for you after all._ James loathed the thought that came unbidden and without cause, and asked himself why Jack's feelings on the matter should count, because they certainly _didn't_.

“I know, clap 'im in irons right?” And Jack held up his hands for all to see, a smile on his face, but eyes curiously lacking in the emotion. In fact, once James would have said he even looked sad, but then reminded himself that he no longer knew the pirate and that his ability to read him had long, too, since died.

Back to the accepted proposal at hand, James still didn't have any notion as to what he was feeling. He should have felt happy and relieved, instead all he felt was an uncomfortable lump in the pit of his stomach. It seemed he was not an honourable man after all, at least emotionally. Physically however, it would be unseemly to reject Elizabeth since he had proposed in the first place – not that he was even remotely contemplating a breech of promise of course.

Well, that left only one course of action, didn't it?

Descending three steps on the quarterdeck stairs, James levelled Jack with a stare. “Mister Sparrow, you will accompany these fine men to the helm and provide us with a bearing to the Isla De Muerta.” He glanced at Elizabeth, but his eyes once again found the pirate all too easily. “You will then spend the rest of voyage contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase; 'silent as the grave'. Do I make myself clear?”

“Inescapably.” Jack acquiesced before Murtogg and Mullroy escorted him to the helm.

 

 

________

 

 

It came as no surprise that James couldn't sleep that night, and, after tossing and turning about his bed, dressed simply in breeches and a white linen shirt before leaving his cabin for some much needed air.

When he emerged onto the quarterdeck, James saw that it was thankfully empty; save for the watchstanding, helmsmen, and lookout.

Descending onto the main deck and heading swiftly towards the fore, James came to a stop near the bow and spread his hands along the smooth rail.

The sea was relatively calm, but out in the open, the wind still howled across the Dauntless, whipping through his hair and displacing some of the bound strands.

He breathed deeply and, closing his eyes, allowed his mind to calm and drift like the waves beneath the ship.

“Oi! You can't just-”

“I think you'll find I can, mate.”

“No. The Commodore said-”

“Did he say I couldn't move about the ship?”

“...Well no, but-”

“Ah-ha! Well then, there's no reason for yer ta be stopping meself is there?”

James' sigh was lost on the wind and he grudgingly turned to see Sparrow trying to argue his way past Mullroy and Murtogg – who he had assigned to watch the pirate – and onto the main deck.

He should have stayed in his cabin, he realised belatedly.

“Well-I-but the Commodore-”

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” James interrupted resignedly, approaching them.

The three men turned to him with surprise, Murtogg blinking stupidly before he realised that it was the Commodore, almost unrecognisable sans his uniform.

“Mister Sparrow wishes to come up on deck.” Mullroy said, recovering from his shock faster than Murtogg.

“Ah.” James raised a brow and looked at Jack, whose expression was curiously slack.

However, the pirate soon recovered and his hands came forth, palms pressed together in a cheap imitation of prayer. “Forgive me, Commodore, but yer said silent an' nothing about bein' held below deck.”

His lips depressed into a thin line. “So I did.”

“Shall we take him back below, sir?”

James' eyes flicked briefly to Mullroy. “No, that will not be necessary. As you were, gentlemen.” Tired and resigned, he had no wish to argue the matter. With a single sharp nod, he turned and walked stiffly back towards the fore. Though James had no doubt that his peace was entirely lost.

A fact that was proven only a short while later.

“Lovely night, innit, Jamie?”

James glanced sharply at Jack, who seemed to have materialized at his side. Looking further across the deck, he saw that Mullroy and Murtogg were paying no attention to their charge, instead they seemed to be engaged in some sort of verbal debate.

James grit his teeth, it seemed that he was going to have to have words with those two come morning.

Looking back at the pirate who stood far too close comfort, he fought yet another sigh. “What do you want, Sparrow?”

Jack had the gall to look offended. “You wound me, Commodore. Why must yer always think me after somethin'?”

He gave Jack a droll look, but said nothing.

After a moment, Jack grinned, gold teeth flashing in the dim light cast by the lanterns. “Jus' thought you might like some company, mate. What with yer standing 'ere on yer lonesome an' all.”

“Well remind me to thank you for your consideration when it is actually required.”

Jack said nothing and James gazed out into the darkness.

The silence didn't last long.

“I see you kept yer hair long.”

Back when James had first made Lieutenant and had been unaccustomed to wearing a wig, he'd thought it itchy and had considered cutting his hair for comfort more than once. He was surprised Jack still remembered his complaints.

“It suits yer, luv.” The pirate was saying now. “Always did.” And before he could react, Jack had a single lock of his hair trapped between two fingers.

“ _Sparrow_ -”

“Still jus' as soft as I remember, too.”

James scowled before swallowing hard, indignation warring with something he daren't name.

“Sparrow, kindly remove your hands from my person. You have no right.” And it cost James greatly to keep his voice steady.

Jack sighed, but thankfully let the lock of hair slip free from between his fingers.

Dark eyes met his own green ones and James was shocked breathless to discover how sombre they looked.

Unable to hold his gaze, James turned towards the ocean once more and Jack was silent for some time, until...

“So, yer an engaged man now, eh, Jamie-luv.”

James closed his eyes tightly, before raising them heavenward. Would he never get any peace?

“So, what did a fine, upstanding Naval man, such as yerself, see in the likes of Elizabeth?”

“ _Miss Swann,_ ” Jack had yet to earn the right to call Elizabeth by her given name. “has my highest regards. She is an astute, well-read, and diverting w-”

“Come now, mate. You and me both know that she ain't of the right persuasion.”

James grit his teeth. “That has nothing to do with it, whatsoever.”

Jack hummed. “Do you love her?”

“ _Mister Sparrow!_ Will you desist.” James fought to hold onto the shreds of his propriety. “This is most improper.”

Jack leant back against the rail, levelling James with an oddly serious look. “It's a simple question, mate.”

“And you have done nothing to deserve such a personal answer.”

“So that's a no then.”

James blinked. “What?”

“A no, Jamie-luv. If yer can't answer a simple question, such as if yer love the girl or not, then yer must not-”

He glared at Jack and hissed; “Yes, I do.” And he did love Elizabeth. At least he'd thought himself to, until recently. Now? Honestly, now he wasn't as sure. Oh she still had firm lodgings in his heart to be sure, but it seemed less to do with romantic attachment and more to do with fictive kinship.

“I see.” Jack swayed, eyes downcast. “Well, I guess that settles it then.”

James frowned, unsure as to what the pirate was blathering on about now.

Seeing his look, Jack elaborated. “You've become the man yer always wanted to be, luv. Yer got yer standing in the navy, the girl ta hang on yer arm, and my neck; hanging from the noose next time we make port.”

James opened his mouth, but unable to find any words, closed it again with a clack of teeth.

The pirate gave a mirthless chuckle. “Well, it's how yer wanted ta be since I left the Anchorage, anyhow. Perhaps we'd be in a different place, if it weren't fer tha'.”

“It would be no different, Sparrow.” James growled. “You're a pirate. Always were, always will be.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but James rounded on him, the pirate's words relighting his ire once more. “You never cared, Jack! Don't you _dare_ pretend otherwise. You played me to your own gain, _made me think that you actually loved-!_ ”

The lips that claimed his were dry and slightly chapped, but even so, the feel, the very taste, bought a wave of emotion and memory that James had long forgotten. It was enough to make his knees weak, and head, spin.

Before James could register what was happening, he found himself crowded against the rail, Jack pressed flush against him, and tongue suddenly delving into his mouth.

As the rail dug into his lower back, the brief flare of pain bought James back to his senses.

With a mighty heave, he shoved the pirate away from him.

Jack staggered back and looked almost as shocked as he, his eyes peeled wide and lips parted.

“How-how _dare_ you!” James' voice shook and he was certain he'd never been so very angry.

“I-”

“No!” Unable to form a coherent sentence, he tried to convey everything in that one word. How dare Jack take such liberties after all he'd done?

Unable to stand even the sight of him, James turned his back. With shaking hands, blurred vision, and a heart that felt suddenly encased in iron, he wondered how on earth the pirate could still affect him so.

“James, I-” But Jack never got to finish.

“ _Land, ho!_ ”

The Isla De Muerta had been sighted.

Immediately, James turned and, with one final, yet unreadable look shared with Jack, made for his cabin to prepare for the coming battle.

Calling for his men's attention as he went, red-coats were already streaming up from below by the time he'd reached the quarterdeck.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to you all! Just a quick note, you will find while reading this chapter that I've added some very, very, very small AU elements, but hopefully you won't find them straying from canon too much!

**CHAPTER THREE**

 

 

_**1737** _

_**Fort Charles, Port Royal** _

 

_**One month later** _

 

 

_Dum. Dum. Da-da-dum. Dum. Dum. Da-da-dum._

The drums seemed overly loud and James' heart thumped painfully along to their beat. Across from him, standing upon the gallows, Jack stood before the hangman's noose, hands bound and eyes devoid of emotion as he awaited his fate.

Finally, James had Jack exactly where he wanted him.

The pirate would hang as all pirates must.

...For the first time, he could barely stand it.

As the Official read the extensive list of Jack's crimes, and the drums continued on in their rhythm, Elizabeth spoke up; “This is wrong.”

“Commodore Norrington is bound by the law. As are we all.” And Governor Swann sounded more resigned than pleased.

James looked down.

 _Wrong_.

Yes, it did feel wrong, though he knew it shouldn't. He'd anticipated this moment for thirteen years, yet in the face of Barbossa's curse; thought that perhaps, just perhaps, Jack Sparrow wasn't as inherently evil as he could be.

“ _-and for these crimes you have been sentenced to be, on this day, hung by the neck until dead-_ ”

At the Official's so very final words, James found himself staring at Jack, and discovered that the pirate's gaze was already boring into him. However, he was surprised to see that those dark eyes held no accusation, nor anger, and were only tinged with sadness and his own resignation.

“- _May god have mercy on your soul_.”

James swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat and clenched his jaw. Regardless of his thoughts on the matter, something which he was in two minds of, James _was_ indeed bound by the law. There was nothing he could do now.

Mere seconds later, a time which seemed to stretch infinitely, James' attention was diverted from Jack as young William Turner came to stand before them.

“Governor Swann. Commodore. Elizabeth.” His gaze turned to her and held, then, without further preamble said; “I should have told you everyday from the moment I met you...I love you.”

Shocked by the baldness of that statement, James looked to Elizabeth to see that she, too, was taken entirely by surprise.

But, before either of them had gathered enough wits to react, William turned on his heel and wove into the crowd.

Suddenly the drums were hammering, and James looked up in time to see the noose being slipped around Jack's neck.

The next thing he became aware of, was Turner forcing his way through the gathered crowd towards the gallows.

On pure instinct, James stepped forward and called for his Marines, yet even to his own ears, his voice sounded less than firm.

Then, before he could direct his men, Elizabeth collapsed.

Fearing the worst, both he and Governor Swann rushed to her side.

A moment later, the drums fell silent.

In the same instant, Elizabeth sat up, having clearly used her own person to create a diversion. However, James only barely registered this, instead his focus was on Jack and saw the exact moment the hangman released the lever.

As the pirate plummeted through the trap-door, all James could hear was the rushing of blood in his ears and the thundering sound of his heartbeat.

However, Jack's neck did not break, nor, it seemed, was he doomed to suffocate, for William was a fine swordsman indeed, and his sword met with the gallows underbelly, allowing Jack to perch precariously upon the metal.

As Turner attempted to rescue Jack, James was reminded of his duty and so, he surged forward into the crowd, red-coats already rallying behind him.

But, the crowd it seemed, did not want to move aside and miss the spectacle that was unfolding before them. By the time that James reached the gallows, Jack was free and he and William were fighting their way to safety.

The gathered crowd did move then, scattering as they were unwilling to be caught in the crossfire. Because of this madness, it was further delay before James caught up with Jack and William, and when he did, saw that they were both surrounded by red-coats.

It was mere moments before Elizabeth and her father were also at his side.

Governor Swann seemed less than pleased by Turner's actions. “On our return to Port Royal I granted you clemency. And this is how you thank me? By throwing in your lot with him? He's a _pirate_.”

“And a good man.” William defended, and he dropped his sword to the ground with a clatter of metal. “If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clean.”

James stepped forward. “You forget your place, Turner.” And he sincerely hoped that William would choose the right course of action. He _was_ a good man, and James was loathe to see him bear the consequences for attempting to save a man already doomed in one way or another.

But, Turner seemed not to heed the meaning behind his words, instead leaning forward defiantly. “It's right here. Between you and Jack.”

“As is mine.”

And James felt his mouth part in shock as Elizabeth appeared beside William, her hand finding his as they stood in unity before him.

James realised belatedly that it shouldn't have come as such a surprise to see that, apparently, Elizabeth returned William's affections. In fact, he realised that the signs had been there all along, and that'd he'd blinded himself to them in his own quest to achieve normality.

“Elizabeth?” Governor Swann sounded even more shocked than James felt, and he commanded the men to lower their weapons. When they hesitated, the note of near-panic was clear. “For goodness sake, put them down!” And eventually, they did so.

Elizabeth's eyes were apologetic and full of remorse as they gazed into his, and though James was certain of the answer, he needed to hear it confirmed. “So, this is where your heart truly lies then?”

To her credit, she was honest without dallying over the answer. “It is.”

Distantly, James realised that he should feel embarrassed to be rejected so publicly, however, and in all honesty, he felt relief.

It seemed that whatever romantic attachment he had formed for Elizabeth no longer existed. And indeed, fictive kinship was all that remained. Yes, he rather thought of her as the sister he never had...perhaps it had always been so and that he had previously been unable to distinguish between the emotions. Or perhaps he had, and that the return of Jack Sparrow to his life had unnerved him enough to make him realise that he could never run from what he truly was.

Sodomite. There was that word again, but, at least to himself, James would admit it.

“Well, I'm actually feeling rather good about this.” And of course Jack had to make his presence known, no doubt feeling rather forgotten. “I think we've all arrived at a very special place, eh. Spiritually. Ecumenically. Dramatically.”

He turned to James then, and the Commodore suddenly found his personal space well and truly invaded.

Without permission, his mind returned to the memory of the kiss upon the Dauntless and he scowled.

“I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate. Know that.”And though his gaze was intent, his meaning was entirely lost on James.

In fact, while he pondered those words, the pirate had managed to manoeuvrer himself onto the parapet and, once again, James realised that he'd underestimated Jack's ability to escape from any and all situations.

“Men!” The pirate called to those gathered at large. “This is the day that you will always remember as the day that you-” And before Jack could finish, the fool tripped, and fell.

James rushed to the edge of the parapet, fear and anger warring inside him with equal fervour.

As he looked down at the broken water where Jack fell, it was only moments before the damned pirate broke the surface. At least he was alive.

“Idiot.” Gillette exclaimed, appearing to his right. “He's nowhere to go but back to the noose.”

Before James could reply, they was a cry of; “ _Sail, ho!_ ” and his head snapped up in time to see the Black Pearl gliding into sight around the headland.

“What's your plan of action?”

But James couldn't answer his Lieutenant, for he didn't know.

“Sir?” Gillette pressed when he received no response.

Again, James didn't have any words. By all rights he should have ordered his men to recapture Sparrow immediately, but then he remembered the feeling as he watched Jack hang from the gallows, and the words simply wouldn't cross his lips.

Thankfully, Governor Swann chose that moment to intervene. “Perhaps on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?”

James' mouth twisted into the smallest of smiles. Governor Swann was slyer than he'd ever given him credit for.

Of course, now that the distraction known as Jack Sparrow was absent, James found his mind turning onto the next most pressing matter. “Mister Turner.” And it was quickly evident that William thought there was to be consequences for his actions. However, James had something rather different in mind.

He'd known Elizabeth since she was a young girl and, betrothed or not, he would see her protected if he could, always.

Unsheathing his sword, he held it between them and looked upon it's excellent craftsmanship with a critical eye. “This is a beautiful sword. I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life.”

And being a smart man, his meaning was not lost on William. “Thank you.” And though his own words were simple, they, too, were a double entendre.

Feeling that there was no more need of his presence, James turned from the parapet, but he'd barely made it several steps before Gillette called out to him.

“Commodore! What about Sparrow?”

James thought for a moment, but he knew that whether he wanted to catch Jack or not, he was still duty-bound to the Crown. “Oh I think we can afford to give him _one_ days head start.” And with a final nod at his Lieutenant, he left.

 

 

________

 

 

The sun was setting as James stood atop the fort a short while later, his eyes never leaving sight of the Pearl as she came about; her Captain, once again, safely onboard.

_One day._

One day for Jack to run.

One day for James to catch up.

And he would, of that he was certain. And if not, the pirate couldn't hide forever.

James clenched his hands where they lay folded behind his back. There was one flaw with his plan – what exactly he was planning on doing with Sparrow once he'd caught him. The pirate had proven all over again that he was slipperier than an eel, but in reality, it was more than that.

James had been more than merely reluctant to see the pirate hang. Then, he'd felt a brief flare of fear when the fool had fallen from the parapet. And now, because of these new and unwelcome developments, James was living in fear of his emotions for when he caught Jack this time.

James closed his eyes. Goddammit, Jack was a pirate and he should feel no qualms about seeing him dead, and yet...and yet...

His gaze swept forth once more and he glared at the Pearl; whose black sails seemed to engulf any and all ebbing sunlight that dared shine upon her.

Unlawful. Greedy. Deceitful. Manipulative. _Pirate_.

All of these words represented Jack Sparrow, and if James had any hope of condemning him, he'd do well to remember them.

Of course, it was then that his traitorous mind reminded him of a time when that wasn't all he knew of Jack. A time when the pirate, then appearing simply as a man like any other, had been his warmth on colds nights, his comfort in times of distress, his friend, his lover and, to a certain extent, his family.

James looked down with a sardonic smile.

Oh what a fool he had been.

What a fool he still was.

What was it he'd once said to Jack? Ah yes, 'it would be best if you never think these preposterous thoughts again'.

Words to live by, James was sure.

Now if only he could apply them as well as he spoke them.

When the sun finally sank below the horizon, James gazed after the Black Pearl as she sailed around the headland and beyond sight.

And if his eyes were just a little wistful, well there was no one there to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, one film down; two to go.
> 
> And now, for Dead Man's Chest! *rubs hands maliciously together*
> 
> I sincerely hope that you are all enjoying what I've written so far, I love to hear feedback (good or bad) and if you are so inclined, please feel free to drop a comment :-)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> P.S. I wanted to wrap up James' feelings for Elizabeth in this chapter with a nice little bow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh...a new chapter and the beginning of Dead Man's Chest... ONWARD!

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 

 

_**1738** _

_**The Twelve Daggers, Tortuga** _

 

_**One year later** _

 

 

He closed his compass. Shook it. Then reopened it.

The needle did not settle.

He repeated the action, which, over the past year, had become something of a ritual.

“I know what I want. I know what I want. _I know what I want._ ”

With hope, he opened it...and was once more disappointed. Again, the needle just continued to spin.

Damn his compass! Damn himself! Damn everything! But mostly, _damn James Norrington!_

Jack helped himself to a large draught of rum before setting the bottle back down with more force than was strictly necessary.

_James._

Thirteen years he'd been without his Jamie, thirteen years he'd had to come to terms with the fact that he'd never have him again. And all it took was just one mere reunion, a year ago, for all of his hard work to be eradicated.

Jack wanted James, oh how he wanted him. And that was just the problem, wasn't it? For now he didn't know what he wanted more; James, or the Key.

Ah yes, the key. The very thing that would allow Jack to free himself from his debt to Davy Jones. A debt that, if vanquished, would allow him the time he needed to win him James' heart all over again. A hard task he knew, but one that would undoubtedly be worth it.

However, the flaw in his plan was that he didn't have the self control needed to want one more to get the other. No, Jack wanted them both and that was precisely why he was currently in the predicament he was.

Ninety-nine souls. Three days.

Jack cast a look over the way at Gibbs, ever his loyal First Mate. “How're we going?”

“Including those four? That give us... _four_.”

Jack didn't answer him, instead he shook the compass again as if that would magically fix his own feelings.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gibbs straighten and knew that someone else was approaching to sign onto his crew.

He made a note to buy the man a bottle of fine rum for his patience.

“And what's your story?” Jack heard Gibbs ask.

“My story is exactly the same as your story, just one chapter behind.”

The compass closed with a snap.

He _knew_ that voice. Those buttery-smooth words set alight a fire in his belly, and slithered down his spine as they ever did.

_Jamie._

But the damn pillar was blocking his view, so he couldn't see his beloved.

“I chased a man across the seven seas. The pursuit cost me my crew, my commission...and my life.”

Jack frowned. That wasn't right, James couldn't be here. He should be in Port Royal, as prim and proper as ever. Safe.

“Commodore?” Gibbs exclaimed, only confirming that James was indeed here, in Tortuga of all places.

“No, not any more, weren't you _listening?_ ” And James sounded very, very angry indeed.

Jack swallowed thickly. An angry Commodore was not a good Commodore to be near. But oh, that voice...

“I nearly had you all off Tripoli.” James was saying now. “I would have, if not for that hurricane.”

Jack's eyes widened.

Surely he didn't...

Oh, but Jack was stupid. _Of course_ Jamie did. And if what he was saying was true, the Commodore would be more angry than Jack had initially thought.

As much as he wanted to see James, self preservation won out and he reached for the first thing – a plant next to where he sat – and dragged the brush over for cover.

“Lord, you didn't try to sail through it...?” Gibbs sounded horrified.

James ignored that. “So, do I make your crew, or not?”

It was most definitely, yet regretfully, time to go.

As Jack wove through the tavern, bush still in hand, he heard the crash of a table being overturned, then worse; “So am I worthy to serve under _Captain_ Jack Sparrow?!”

And then, Jack stood facing down the barrel of a pistol, realising somewhat too late, that using the bush as his disguise probably wasn't the best decision he'd ever made.

“Or should I just kill you now?” James finished, and Jack was very nearly heartbroken by the man who stood before him, ruined as he was.

His clothes were filthy and torn, his wig all but in tatters and his face, unshaven and dirty.

James Norrington should never have had to look like this.

Though even under all of the grime, Jack still thought him more beautiful than any treasure.

Of course, that thought didn't help him at all in his current predicament, and so he thought of a way to quickly defuse it. “You're hired.”

The twist of a smile that James gave him wasn't a pleasant one, and Jack felt his heart sink.

“Sorry,” He cocked the pistol. “old habits and all that.”

Jack was frozen. Surely James wouldn't actually _shoot_ him? But looking into those cold and angry eyes, suddenly, he was uncertain.

Before James could indeed fire a shot, or before Jack could try and run, the Commodore was accosted by two of his newest crewmembers.

Jack didn't linger, simply made his escape from the tavern with Gibbs in tow, his tread heavy and heart, even more so.

They made it back to the Pearl in good time, stopping only briefly to purchase two bottles of rum – one for himself having left his behind in the tavern, and one for Gibbs as a token of his gratitude.

As they hurried along the wharf, Jack found himself waylaid by a call.

“Captain Sparrow?”

He glanced back to see a young man following and assumed he was here on business. “Come to join me crew, lad? Welcome aboard.”

“I'm here to find the man I love.”

The response drew him up short and he stared wide-eyed with concern, but then reasoned that the lad was probably loaded to the gunnel's and couldn't see straight. “I'm deeply flattered, son, but me first and only love is J-the sea.” And wasn't that nearly quite the slip of tongue. Jack was ashamed of himself.

“Meaning William Turner, Captain Sparrow.”

Jack turned about sharply and was quite shocked to see a woman hiding under that very unwomanly disguise. “Elizabeth?” Then to Gibbs; “Hide the rum.” He certainly wasn't taking any chances on the rum-stealing-wench getting her hands on a second supply to burn.

Back to Elizabeth, Jack tried to divert her from coming aboard, having no doubt that she was here for one particular reason...namely, one William Turner. “You know these clothes do not flatter you at all. It should be a dress or nothing. I happen ta have no dress in my cabin...”

“Jack,” She didn't look pleased. “I know Will came to find you. Where is he?”

It was at times like this when Jack really hated being himself. Why did it always seem to fall on him to be the bearer of bad news? Involvement notwithstanding of course.

“Darlin', I am truly unhappy ta have ta tell yer this, but...through an unfortunate, and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that had nothing whatsoever ta do with me, poor Will has been press-ganged into Davy Jones' crew.” He swayed back and waited for the fallout...it never came.

“Davy Jones?” She sounded as though she'd never before heard of him.

“Oh _please_.”

Jack's heart stopped.

“The Captain of the Flying Dutchman?” And there was James, though now covered head-to-foot in mud, and leaning his weight against one of the piled barrels.

Though he was undoubtedly pleased by this unexpected encounter, Jack couldn't help but feel still somewhat sore over being threatened by his Jamie.

“You look bloody awful. What are you doing here?”

“You hired me.” And though he seemed less angry than before, he didn't sound overly pleased by that fact. “I can't help it if your standards are lax.”

Those words only served to wound Jack's pride. “You smell funny!” And he quickly decided that the insult had sounded better in his head.

“Jack! All I want is to find Will.”

And just like that, Jack had the most brilliant idea. Yes, _brilliant_. “Are you certain? Is tha' what you really want most?”

“Of course.” She said with certainty.

He took Elizabeth by the shoulder. “Because I would think you'd want ta find a way ta _save_ Will most.”

She looked incredulous. “And you'd have a way of doing that?”

Jack tried his hand at downplaying the situation. “Well...there is a chest-”

“ _Oh dear_.”

He levelled James with a look. Oh, he loved him dearly to be sure, but sometimes he could just...

Forging on with his plan to persuade her to his cause, he turned back to Elizabeth and ignored James. “A chest of unknown size or origin...”

 

 

________

 

 

As Jack reflected on his words to James back in the tavern – when the Commodore had been so terribly angry – he realised he should never have 'hired' his Jamie.

Oh it had always been a fantasy of his to sail the seas with James at his side, but with the threat of Davy Jones, Jack wanted the other man as far from him as possible.

Of course, it was a bit late for that now, wasn't it? James was already aboard the Pearl, and they were sailing into open water.

Jack could throw him overboard, he supposed. But he figured that Jamie was still rather under the influence, and it wouldn't do to have the man drown because he couldn't find which way was up.

He guessed he was stuck with him now, Elizabeth, too, for that matter.

Jack frowned as he adjusted the Pearl's course. _Did James still love ol' Miss Swann?_ It was a thought that had incessantly plagued Jack for the past year, and he remembered when James had first confirmed it. Like a knife through the heart it had been.

But in the end, Elizabeth had chosen Will – and hadn't that just made his day – but still, he couldn't help but wonder; where did that leave Jamie's heart after all this time? And worse; even if he didn't love her, could James ever love _him_ again? After all, Jack was a pirate and his Jamie was the Commodore, well former-Commodore. And if that wasn't enough, James could no longer stand him, not after Jack betrayed him all those years ago, and certainly not after the man lost his commission because of chasing him across the seas.

It seemed that he had a difficult path ahead of him, but one that he would gladly tread.

Thinking of his James, the man appeared from below deck then, looking considerably cleaner and with that blasted wig, thankfully, nowhere in sight.

“Cotton!” The mute appeared in an instant. “Take the helm.” And with that, Jack swaggered down the steps onto the main deck.

With most of the crew below deck finding bunk for the night, his Jamie was alone and Jack sidled over to him.

James sighed when he saw him. “And what have I done to deserve the unfortunate pleasure of your company?”

“Now Commodore,” Jack drawled, wagging a finger at him. “is that anyway ta greet ol' Jack? Seein' as it's been a year, mate.”

James gave him a black look. “One that I wished had stretched infinitely.”

Jack rocked back on his heels, eyes downcast. Ah, so he _was_ still angry then...

“ _And_ ,” James continued, his voice growing bitter. “I would be grateful if you would cease to call by that title. I need little reminder of my failures, least of all from _you_.”

Jack pursed his lips. “Aye, right you are, Jamie-luv. Mum's the word.”

Another sigh, this one more aggravated and accompanied by the closure of eyes. He also went ignored.

“So,” Jack said after several moments of silence, leaning closer to James. “what bought yer to Tortuga, rather than some other, more honest port?”

That got him a look, a rather sharp one. “I had nowhere else to go.” And it seemed like it took a lot of self control to spit those words out.

Suddenly, Jack felt guilty – an emotion he wasn't accustomed to feeling. “ _Well_ , now yer do!”

James raised one sceptical eyebrow, the question unspoken.

“The Pearl, o'course!”

The other man scoffed. “If you actually think that I would stay here with you, then-”

“You're part of me crew now, luv.” Jack interrupted, feeling somewhat smug.

“I have signed nothing to say as such.” He reminded Jack with venom. “Besides, I came for Elizabeth and to make sure that she remains safe while in questionable company, such as yourself.”

Oh, that stung. So he was only here for Miss Swann, was he? Guess that answered his question over James' feelings for her.

“I still can't believe she fell for your lies about Davy Jones, Jack.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “But then you always were able to use your charms to turn even the best of people into the worst sort.”

Jack actually felt slightly offended, he often told the truth and it wasn't his fault if nobody chose not to believe him. “Now wait a minute-!”

“I have no use for your excuses, Sparrow. Save them.”

Often slow to anger, now Jack felt his annoyance rapidly rising over James' stubbornness. “See here, Commodore-”

“ _And_ ,” James' green eyes were dark with his own anger. “it seems you are also incapable of performing even the most basic of tasks. It is no longer Commodore, Sparrow. See to it that you do not call me thus again.”

“That's _Captain_ to you, mate.”

At an impasse, they stood facing one another head-on, standing almost toe-to-toe and glaring at the other with intensity.

“What do you want, Jack?” James asked through gritted teeth, after several moments of loaded silence.

“I came to offer me cabin for the journey, actually.” Though he was feeling rather less inclined to do so now.

A snort. “With you in it, I presume?”

Jack's eyes narrowed, and his smile was shark-like. “Aye. I'm the Captain, after all.”

The corner of James' lip curled up mockingly. “I'd rather sleep in a pig-pen, Sparrow. But since you have none onboard, I suppose I'll make do with your crew. Not that they smell any better, however.”

Jack felt his fists clench, now thoroughly furious. “Well, if yer gonna be like that, yer can work with them, too!”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

After yet another several seconds of tense silence, both men finally turned on their heel and stalked off to opposite ends of the Pearl.

And as he lay alone that night, Jack consoled himself with two bottles of rum and an old pirate song...even if he could only remember half the words.

Though still angry, the knowledge that James was aboard his ship still bought a smile to his face, and he took another drink before toasting the empty air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after some serious thinking, I just couldn't resist writing a chapter from Jack's point of view...sooooooo what did you guys think? *nervous face*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of the readers following this story, I am so very sorry that it has taken so long to update! I knew what I wanted to write, but I just couldn't get the wording itself right. After nearly an entire week of agonising over this chapter, re-reading and editing it until I can practically recite it word-for-word, I finally have it! I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Also, when I last read it through I noticed a mistake in my wording in the third section, a word that that doesn't belong and should be replaced by another. For the life of me I can't find it again (no matter how many times I comb through it - pretty sure it was something along the lines of; not, or to, or it, or some other equally mundane word) so if someone could point it out that would be brilliant! Of course, it may just be my imagination, but we'll see. Thank you!

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 

_**1738** _

_**Caribbean Sea, The Black Pearl** _

 

 

James pulled his sodden wig from the bucket and it fell to the deck with a wet splat. As he scrubbed vigorously at the wood, he heard footsteps approaching and, moments later, boots appeared before him.

Shielding his eyes against the sun, he glanced up and scowled at Jack.

The pirate merely grinned a gold-toothed smile. “A bit of manual labour is good for yer James.” He leant down. “It builds character. Oh,” He tapped his foot to indicated a spot to the left of James' hand. “and yer missed a bit, luv.”

James felt his eyes grow dark with anger as Jack sauntered off, but as he made to follow, he was pulled back by a rough tug to his coat.

“Don' ya be angerin' the Cap'ain. Nothin' good e'er come from angerin' Jack Sparrow.”

He glanced sharply at the pirate who'd spoken, but said nothing, merely dipped his chin in acknowledgement and carried on scrubbing. James didn't fear Jack, but he certainly didn't want to be accosted by the entire crew for trying to strangle their Captain.

A short while later, still on his hands and knees, James suddenly caught sound of a name and looked up sharply.

“Beckett?” Gibbs asked, standing with Elizabeth and Jack close by.

“Yes,” She confirmed. “they're signed; Lord Cutler Beckett, of the East India Trading Company.” And it was then he noticed that Jack held a set of leather-bound papers.

Forcing his gaze back to deck so as not to draw attention to his interest, instead he listened avidly.

“Will was working for Beckett and he never said a word.” Gibbs sounded disgruntled, then taken aback. “Beckett wants the compass. Only one reason for that...”

“Of course, he wants the chest.” And James risked a quick glance to see that Jack looked concerned.

“Yes, he did say something about a chest.” Elizabeth said.

“If the company controls the chest, they'll control the sea.” Gibbs said to her.

“A truly discomforting notion, luv.” Jack added.

“And bad!” Gibbs exclaimed, his voice filled with dread. “Bad for every mother-son what calls himself pirate.” Then to Jack; “I think there's a bit more speed to be coaxed from these sails.” And he strode off, shouting for the men to brace to foreyard.

“Might I enquire as ta how you came by these?” Jack asked Elizabeth after the other man left.

“Persuasion.”

“Friendly?”

“Decidedly not.”

“Will strikes a deal for these and upholds it with honour, yet you're the one standing here with the prize.” Jack sounded incredulous, yet definitely proud. “A full pardon.”

Having not really believed what Jack said about the chest, James' head snapped up at that to see him reading from the paper.

“Commission as a privateer on behalf of England and the East India Trading Company.” Jack turned away, tucking the letters into his coat. “As if I could be bought fer such a low price.”

“Jack, the letters! Give them back.”

But James no longer listened and he knelt frozen on the deck.

Letters of Marque.

Those papers were _Letters of Marque_.

To be there bearer of those letters was to be free from one's crimes.

James' mind was spinning. If he was to hold them, he would be redeemed. He could go back to an honest life with his head held high. His reputation would never be recovered of course, but that was just a small price to pay.

He just needed to get his hands on them...

It briefly crossed his mind that in doing so was to betray Jack, but James consoled himself that it would finally make them more or less even.

Besides, he rather doubted that Jack would leave piracy for good. After all, it was in the man's blood.

James went back to swabbing the deck, but his mind was elsewhere, notably, on plotting how to relieve Jack of those letters.

 

 

________

 

 

It was in the dead of night when James knocked on the door.

A crash was heard, followed by a muttered curse before the door was wrenched open and Jack stood there blinking at him, until finally, he swayed back with a grin. “Well, well...and ta what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

James raised an eyebrow and ignored that. “May I come in?”

Jack's grin widened and stepped back, then with a flourish of his arm beckoned the former-Commodore inside his cabin.

With his heart thumping, James stepped inside and looked around with interest. Jack's cabin was much like the pirate himself; in complete disarray and stuffed full of the odds and ends he'd 'collected' on his travels. He also noted Jack's coat and where it lay slung over one of the chairs.

When he finally turned to face Jack, the pirate was leaning against a large round table, his face unreadable.

If possible, his pulse quickened further and it shamed him.

“So Jamie-luv, tell me; why are yer here? Not that I mind, savvy?”

James reached into his coat and withdrew the bottle of rum he'd stashed there. “I came to give this to you as a peace offering.”

Jack's eyebrows arched up beyond his headscarf. “Really now...well that's interesting. And just what bought this on, might I ask?”

His eyes seemed piercing in the candlelight and James was reminded that no matter how Jack presented himself, the pirate was in no way stupid. James would have to tread very carefully indeed.

Walking over to the table, he set down the bottle of rum and didn't miss how Jack glanced at it. His eyes, when they returned to James' were all too knowing, though thankfully he didn't comment and James didn't have to admit to the fact he'd stolen the rum from Gibbs' personal stock.

“I...” He paused, carefully considering his next words. “I would like the put our past behind us.”

No, Jack was not stupid and his eyes were calculating when they met James'. “Is that so, luv?”

James dipped his chin, his gaze steady on the pirate's. “Yes.”

Jack hummed and moved off from the table, when he returned he carried two tumblers and set them down before uncorking the rum and pouring a decent serving into both glasses.

“I ask again,” Jack said finally, passing one glass to James, who took it without complaint. “what bought all this on? Yer weren't much fond of me just this mornin'.”

James swirled the amber liquid before taking a swallow and answering. “I am no longer a man of the navy, moreover, I am now also part of your crew.” His lips twisted into a small self-depreciating smile. “One could say that I'm now a pirate myself, and as such I see no reason why we must remain foes. As for our...personal history, that was many years ago. I still feel angry and betrayed, Jack. I won't lie to you on that, but if we are ever to move forward, then it must be put to rest.” James swallowed thickly and took a deep draught of rum, pushing the suddenly unsettled, and perhaps even guilty feeling to the far reaches of his mind. There was no reason for him to be feeling so after all.

“Part of me crew you say?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Thought yer said you were here for naught but Elizabeth?”

James internally cursed. Yes, he had said that, hadn't he? “Once Elizabeth is safe, I'll still have nowhere to go. I thought perhaps...I could stay onboard the Pearl. If you'll have me, of course?”

Several moments passed in which Jack said nothing and simply looked at him, his eyes roaming as if probing for the lie that it was. However, after many years in the navy, James easily kept his face impassive and willed his eyes to show sincerity.

Apparently, whatever Jack saw in his gaze convinced him and his hand came down onto the tabletop with a slap, teeth flashing gold as he smiled. “Well, luv, you've taken me right by surprise, pleasant though, don't yer be mistakin' that.” He lifted his glass. “A toast then; to new beginnings...as it were.”

James dipped his chin in acknowledgement and drank to the toast. While he only had a sip, Jack swallowed the whole glass and James had to suppress his smirk.

“Ah, fine rum that.” Jack complimented. “T'would be a shame to drink it all on me onesie...”

James did smirk then. “Indeed.” And he quickly finished his own tumbler. “Another, Jack?”

The pirate merely grinned and poured the rum.

 

 

________

 

 

Less than two hours later and the bottle was empty, the second – one that Jack had scrounged from the depths of some cupboard or other – was also well on it's way to completion.

James' plan to inebriate Jack had worked all too well and the pirate sat at the table, body listing to one side with his chin propped on one hand and glass curled in the other.

Of course what James hadn't planned on, was getting rather sloshed himself. And indeed, the former-Commodore was in much the same sorry state as Jack, and he sat slumped with his head resting upon his arm on the tabletop.

At first conversation between them had been somewhat stilted at best, but as the hours passed, James had soon found himself relaxing by the glass and the timber of Jack's voice as the pirate regaled him of his many escapades. Of course, the rum seeping into his veins helped a great deal and before long, James even found amusement in Jack's tales, something that would have, under normal circumstances, been highly improbable.

In fact, Jack was currently telling him a, frankly, ridiculous and no doubt over-exaggerated, tale of confused identity, misguided gallantry, and of course; rum.

“-course,” Jack slurred. “it was only after tha' I realised it was no miss, but a _lamb!_ A blasted sheep Jamie. In a bonnet!”

And James laughed full-bellied into his arm, unable to suppress his mirth.

“And then, ta make matter worse, the farmer comes out, and I find meself, on me onesie, fleeing from a pitchfork-wielding-”

“Jack, please!” James begged, his own words slurred as he clutched his stomach with one hand. “I can't take any more. Enough of your prip...prap-” James frowned, that didn't sound right...ah. “- _prep_ osterous stories.”

Jack's head lolled to one side. “Ah, but yer seem to love me stories, Jamie-luv.”

James managed a snort, but didn't deny it. He simply didn't have the energy. In fact, he felt rather tired indeed and his limbs were heavy and his head spun.

Perhaps if he could just close his eyes for a while, he'd feel so much better...

Suddenly there came a loud bang and James, having not even realised that he had, in fact, closed his eyes, opened one eye blearily to see Jack's arm and where it now lay palm down on the tabletop.

“Now, now, luv,” The pirate said, grinning. “can't have yer falling asleep on me. How 'bout a nice ol' pirate song to cheer things up?”

James groaned long and loud. Absolutely not, besides, he didn't even know any pirate songs.

Jack was suddenly on his feet and though he swayed dangerously, managed to curl one hand around James' arm.

James, with difficulty, lifted his head to protest further, but was suddenly wrenched to his feet and he, too, swayed as the room span.

Naturally, he reached out to steady himself, and was dimly shocked to find that he suddenly had an arm full of pirate.

James frowned at Jack. It wasn't right to be this close to the other man...why was that again? His clouded mind refused to work, so he just made do with continuing to frown.

Jack on the other hand, was smiling his gold-toothed smile even more broadly, and his arms came up to wrap themselves around James' waist. “If yer wanted ta dance instead, yer could have just said so, luv.”

James' frown morphed into a scowl. “What? No-”

But Jack's arms tightened and he began to hum some ridiculous song as he moved, dragging James along with him.

For his part, the former-Commodore could do no less than hang on lest he trip and fall, but that didn't stop him from protesting. Jack, of course, ignored him.

Eventually however, James' unsteadiness, coupled with the rocking of the Pearl, got the better off him and he _did_ trip. But instead of falling backwards, he fell forward.

He froze, suddenly overly aware of the feel of Jack pressed against him from chest to hip.

It was most improper, and glaring, he opened his mouth to tell the pirate off, but the words never came. Instead, he found himself staring intently into Jack's near-black eyes, and, even in his drunken state, he could easily recognise the want and longing in them.

James' mouth suddenly felt dry and he became aware that his heart was thumping rapidly in his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this to be wrong, knew that he should move away and put distance between them, but he found that in this moment he just didn't want to. Blurred and distant memories of a time long past were suddenly at the fore of his mind, and he found himself looking at Jack's lips and remembering.

As for the pirate, he didn't move, didn't speak, but was simply still, as if waiting for something.

Looking back into his eyes, James knew with sudden clarity that Jack would, unusually, do nothing.

James became dimly aware that this was wrong, there was a voice somewhere in the back of his mind yelling for him to move away, but he couldn't listen, didn't want to. He just _had_ to have a taste, had to feel them beneath his own. In that moment, there was nothing else he wanted more in the world.

And so, he finally claimed Jack's lips.

There was a groan, but James didn't care who it came from, instead he focused on the feel of those warm, soft lips and the tongue that came to entwine with his.

God, he had missed this, James realised, wrapping one hand around the woven lengths of Jack's hair.

The pirate did groan then and pressed closer, his own fingers reaching up to stroke along James' jaw.

It wasn't Jack who crowded him this time, but James, and he soon had the other man pressed against a door leading off of the room.

All too soon however, the need to air became too great and he reluctantly pulled away. Jack's eyes were half-lidded and his lips swollen as he gazed back at James with a small smile.

This time, it was Jack who's mouth sought his, and James sank willingly into the kiss, somewhat aware of the pirate's hand searching the door.

A moment later, said door swung open, and the kiss was broken as they stumbled inside what appeared to be the pirate's sleeping quarters.

Before James could muster some form of reaction to this development, Jack's hand caught his and was towing him forth.

Again, that voice in the back of his mind was shouting, screaming at him to stop and think about why he had come here in the first place, but then Jack was kissing him again, tongue delving into his mouth, and his thoughts were silenced.

Soon the pirate's nimble fingers were tracing their way up his sides and when they came to his shoulders, James' coat was falling to the floor with a slide of hand.

With a tug, his shirt soon followed and James sucked in a sharp breath when Jack bit and nibbled at the exposed skin of his clavicle.

James meant to return the favour, and divested Jack of his own shirt, but was then distracted by the many tattoos that hadn't been there before. In something akin to awe, he traced the inked patterns with one finger.

“Now luv, there's plenty of time fer that later.” And suddenly James found himself pushed onto the surprisingly soft coverlets.

The room span and when it righted itself, James saw that Jack lay next to him propped up on one arm.

The pirate reached out with one finger and ran it up the length of James' chest, up his neck, along his jaw and finally, traced one pad across his lower lip. His own mouth descended soon after and James eagerly arched into the kiss.

 

 

________

 

 

Pain was the first thing James became aware of when he awoke. His head was pounding along in such a rhythm that it made his eyes water beneath his closed lids.

Bracing himself, he cracked an eye open and was surprised when no light seared his vision. In fact, he would say it was still night.

But no, as his eyes alighted on a small window, he saw that the sky was coloured in the darkest shade of blue. So, morning was approaching then.

It was in that moment that James realised two things simultaneously. The first, was that he didn't recognise the window. And the second, was that an arm lay draped across his middle.

He froze. Then, slowly, he looked down and, to his horror, realised that the arm was familiar.

_Jack._

James closed his eyes against the sight. Oh god, what had he done? But try as he might, he couldn't remember.

However, one thing was for certain, his plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Shamed, sickened and above all, angry with himself, James carefully removed Jack's arm, so as not to wake him, and slid from the bed.

He didn't dare look back at the pirate, but was grateful to find that he was still wearing his breeches, though they were unlaced. If nothing else, he used it as a small relief. Surely if he was still at least partially clothed, nothing _more_ untoward had happened...

As James leant over to gather the pile of his belongings, he didn't realise how inebriated he still was until the room span, and he had to catch himself on the bed to keep from falling over.

At this, a groan was heard and the rustle of bedding as Jack shifted.

James froze once more and risked a quick glance, but the pirate soon settled, and he let out a silent sigh of relief.

He made it into the other room without further delay and dressed as quickly, and quietly, as possible.

It was only as he was heading for the main door, that James remembered why he'd come to Jack's cabin in the first place.

The Letters of Marque.

Turning, he easily spotted Jack's coat as it was still draped across the back of one chair.

Naturally however, he managed to disturb the only loose object between him and his goal, and he gritted his teeth as the empty rum bottle clinked against his boot before rolling away.

Finally picking up the worn leather, he easily found the letters within an inner pocket and held them for a moment, savouring his victory.

He could finally lead an honest life once more and his guilt over stealing them from Jack could be damned.

“I should have known, Jamie-luv.”

James' head snapped up and he saw that Jack stood in the doorway, only half dressed himself with one arm behind his back. Jack's eyes, when they met his were mostly unreadable, but also hard with anger.

“Sparrow.” He greeted coolly, dropping the pirate's coat back onto the chair, but keeping the letters in his hand.

“I must say,” Jack said, coming further into the room. “yer had me right fooled for a time there. Seems I can't trust even you.”

James' lips twisted into a mocking smile. “It was stupid to think that you could in the first place, you of all people should know better, Jack.”

“Aye, it seems so.” Jack's smile was both feral and self-depreciating. “And I'd be putting those papers back if I were you, luv.”

James snorted. “You have no need of them, Sparrow. A pirate like you will never be an honest man, I give you less than a month before you return to your wicked ways.”

Jack shrugged one shoulder, but didn't deny it. “Put them back, Commodore.”

James felt his eyes narrow. “No.”

“And here's me hoping you'd be reasonable. Ah well...” And Jack withdrew his hand from where he'd held it behind his back.

Instantly, James froze, his eyes staring down the length of the pistol aimed at his chest.

“Put the letters back, James, there's a good chap.”

But James set his jaw stubbornly. “I said no.”

Jack's eyes were completely devoid of emotion as he pulled back the flintlock. “ _Now_ , Commodore. I won't ask again.”

Surely Jack wouldn't shoot him...but since he was a pirate, James wasn't so sure.

In the end, he realised he didn't want to take that gamble and reluctantly, he set the letters down upon the tabletop.

Jack seemed to sag, just a little, before he smiled, though it was grim. “I thank ye, James. Now then, I trust yer know yer way out...?”

James was furious, he had been cowardly and the pirate had bested him again, still, he left quickly without a backwards glance, and even managed not to slam the door as he left.

Head still pounding, James was glad when he saw no one as he went in search of some water.

And, trying not to think too much on what might have occurred the night before, he knew for certain that he _would_ have those letters, he would just have to be more cunning next time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that this part is over with, lets hope I can spit out the next instalment a little quicker! 
> 
> Also, it's up to you to decide what really happened between them on that night... ;-)
> 
> As always thank you for reading and for your patience.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since you guys had to wait so long for the last Chapter (and as it seems I'm on a roll) I'd thought get another finished and posted today! 
> 
> As always, feel free to point out any mistakes! Thank you. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy...

**CHAPTER SIX**

 

 

_**1738** _

_**Caribbean Sea, near Isla Cruces** _

 

 

“You're pullin' too fast.”

“You're pullin' too slow. We don't want the Kraken to catch us.”

James rolled his eyes. There was no such thing as a 'Kraken', though it didn't surprise him that the two imbeciles currently rowing them to shore thought so.

Pintel scoffed. “I'm savin' me strength fer when it comes. And I don't think it's 'Krak-en', anyways. I always heard it said 'Kray-ken'.”

“What, with a long 'a'?” Pintel asked. “Na, na, na, na, na. “Krock-en's' how it's pronounced in the original Scandinavian, and 'Krack-en's' closer to that.”

James honestly couldn't believe what he was hearing, 'educated' pirates? Surely the world was coming to an end.

He shared a long-suffering look with Elizabeth and wondered, not for the first time, how he'd managed to be involuntarily stuffed aboard this vessel in the first place...

Ah yes, of course.

Jack didn't trust him aboard his precious Pearl without himself there to keep watch, not after the incident with the Letters of Marque at any rate.

“Well, we ain't no original Scandinavians, are we?” Pintel grumbled, before emphasising his point; _“'Kray-ken'_ ”

And now Ragetti sounded petulant. “It's a mythological creature, I can call it what I wants.”

James sighed and looked imploringly out to sea, hoping to god that they reached shore sooner rather than later.

Thankfully, they did so. And with quick orders from Jack, Pintel and Ragetti were left to guard the boat, and he no longer had to listen to those two argue about things that were beyond their level of intelligence.

A short while later found he, Elizabeth and Jack walking along the sandy banks of the Isla Cruces in search of the 'chest'. Of course, what James hadn't anticipated, was the near unbearable heat of the sun, and since he wore his heavy naval coat, and was lumbered with two shovels, he trudged behind the other two, less than pleased to be bought on this entirely absurd pursuit.

Oh, he no longer doubted that a chest did, in fact, exist. But he certainly didn't believe Jack's adamant claims as to what lay inside it, nor that his compass could lead them to it.

Eventually however, their quest came upon a hindrance, and they stopped as Elizabeth tried to figure out which way they should head next.

“This doesn't work.” Elizabeth exclaimed with frustration, sitting heavily upon the sand. “And it _certainly_ doesn't show you what you want most.”

Was James smug? Well, only a little.

Jack came over to investigate then, and James awaited in bated breath for the next ridiculous thing that he was to no doubt utter.

“Yes it does. You're sitting on it.”

Elizabeth looked up at him bewildered. “Beg-pardon?”

Jack waved his arms at her with impatience. “Move.”

She did so without fuss and then Jack whistled at him, like some stay dog, and indicated that he should start digging a hole.

Though affronted to be treated thus, like Elizabeth, he didn't protest, merely thrust one shovel upright in the ground and took up the other in both hands.

Perhaps it was because of the curiosity, and that it was finally getting the better of him, that he began to dig without complaint. But then, it may also have been because he actually felt guilty for his actions in Jack's cabin. Not over trying to take the letters, of course. But for his drunken actions that had clearly lead the other man to believe that James' intentions were more than he'd previously made them out to be.

It wasn't honourable of him at all, rum or no.

At first, he hadn't remembered what had happened, but as complete sobriety returned, eventually his memories did too, though incomplete and blurred by rum. And yes, he felt entirely guilty and ashamed of himself. Of course, that wasn't all he felt about the matter, but he certainly wasn't going to analyse those feelings anytime soon. Better that he put them to the back of his mind and pretend like that whole accursed night never happened.

But of course, even James' patience and charitably had it's limits, and as Jack simply sat there, not even _offering_ to help at all, James considered the benefits of thwacking the pirate over the head with the shovel.

However, that was before the sound of wood meeting wood resounded from below.

James couldn't even speak for shock as all three of them gathered close to look, then, they hurriedly dug out the chest with their bare hands, eager to open it.

By god, Jack had actually told the truth. The compass had lead them to the chest.

Once retrieved, the lock was easily broken and Jack opened the lid with a creek of unused hinges.

Inside lay and array of sealed letters, but beneath that, a smaller chest made of intricately patterned wrought iron.

Jack hesitated but a moment, before he warily lifted the chest from within.

James felt like a fool, Jack had told the truth about the compass, about the chest, and he wondered, was the pirate also right about the heart? Suddenly, he had to know.

Like before, all three leant in and there was a moment of silence. Then...they heard it.

A heartbeat.

James knelt back in awe and shock, and suddenly, he felt ungrounded. Everything he thought he knew to be truth, was a lie.

Oh he had been so, so _stupid_. So utterly foolish and blinded by his own distrust that it was beyond comprehension.

“It's real.” Elizabeth's voice sounded just as shocked as he felt.

“You actually were telling the truth.” He told Jack, and he meant so much more than was actually said.

“I do that quite a lot, you people are always surprised.” And James had to concede that he had a fair point.

“With good reason.”

James' head snapped up at the unfamiliar voice, and he was dumbfounded to see young William Turner, of all people, standing not to far away and dripping wet with seawater.

“Will!” And Elizabeth rushed happily to his side. “You're alright, thank god. I came to find you!”

As they embraced, James gave them their privacy by way of adverting his eyes. But in truth, at least to himself, it was because their kiss reminded him of the ones he'd recently shared with Jack. Something that was painful to remember, and something he'd rather forget.

“How did you get here?” Jack asked then.

“Sea turtles, mate. A pair of them strapped to my feet.”

James frowned. Clearly he was missing something, but more than that, William's voice held a sharp undercurrent, something that James had never thought to hear, _especially_ directed at Jack Sparrow.

“Not so easy, is it?” Jack replied, apparently knowing what he was talking about and seeming to miss the edge heard in the other man's voice.

“But I do owe you thanks, Jack.” And this time, it was said openly sarcastic.

“You do?”

“After you tricked me onto that ship to square your debt with Jones...”

Elizabeth turned to Jack. “ _What?_ ”

Never let it be said that Jack didn't have a strong survival instinct, because he finally seemed to realise he was treading in deep water. “What?” He echoed, playing terribly at being oblivious.

“I was reunited with my father.” William continued.

Jack smiled uneasily. “Oh...er, you're welcome then.”

And suddenly, Elizabeth was furious. “Everything you said to me, every word was a _lie?!_ ”

To his credit, Jack didn't try and deny it. “Pretty much. Time and tide, luv.” He then noticed that William had the key and was kneeling in front of Davy Jones' chest. “Oi, what are you doin'?”

“I'm going to kill Jones.” He said plainly.

An instant later, Jack had his sword unsheathed and it was pointed at Turner's throat. “I can't let you do that, William. Cause if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beasty off the hunt, eh?”

Conceding to defeat, William slowly got to his feet.

“Now, if you please...the key.” And Jack held out his hand.

But while this new drama had been unfolding, James had been allowed a short time to gather his thoughts, and gather them he did.

With the chest and heart actually real, and within his grasp, the Letters of Marque held little value in the face of something far greater. With those letters, he could go about living as an honest man, reputation forever tarnished, but honest nonetheless. However, with the heart, he could get something far more worthy...his _life_. And just as it was before.

And he knew just the person who had the ability to grant such a thing...

“I keep the promises I make, Jack.” William said then, and suddenly, he seized Elizabeth's sword. “I intend to free my father, I hope you're here to see it-”

James quickly made his own move and unsheathed his blade. “I can't let you do that either. So sorry.” He added, almost as an afterthought.

Of course, Jack then thought the former-Commodore was on his side. “I knew you'd warm up to me eventually-” But his words abruptly died when James swung his sword in the pirate's direction.

“Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest.” He clarified. “I deliver it, I get my life back.”

“Ah, the dark side of ambition.” And Jack's eyes were mocking, though James didn't miss the disappointment, disgust and hurt that lurked beneath.

But he didn't care, for the prize was right there for the taking. “Oh I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption.” And it was he who swung the first blow, and soon, all three of them were fighting one another, unaware of the approaching danger and Elizabeth's outrage as she looked on.

 

 

________

 

 

James couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. At first he thought it was merely due to dizziness, but as his eyesight cleared, it seemed that in the time he and Turner had been battling within the waterwheel, an army of deformed, fish-like pirates had invaded the beach.

He blinked and looked again, but no, his eyes weren't betraying him. Nor was he going mad.

It truly seemed that the horrors of this world would never cease, and James was almost willing to believe that perhaps there was a Kraken after all.

However, being a man of logic more often than not, he quickly realised the opportunity that had presented itself.

With Jack thoroughly distracted and locked in his own battle, his coat was left unattended in the cockboat just a small distance away.

With the enemy pirates now swarming the beach, the chest was long out of his reach and James would take what he could get. The Letters of Marque would at least afford him some sort of life, and it was definitely better than nothing at all.

With that in mind, James made for the boat at a run, and luck seemed to be on his side for he made it without hindrance.

It only took a moment for him to have the letters in hand, but as he smiled in his victory, noticed that Jack's jar of dirt had been partially emptied, and it's contents now lay scattered across the bench.

He looked up at Jack and where the pirate fought, a thought suddenly forming in his mind. _Surely he couldn't have..._

But, when he opened the jar, almost laughed at how devious Jack Sparrow was. _Of course he had._

With a brief look around to see that the others were making their way towards the boat, James wasted no time in retrieving the heart and hiding it within the inner folds of his coat. He took the letters, too, for extra reassurance.

As he'd said before, Jack would have little use for them anyway.

Realising that the boat was being surrounded, James gripped his sword and turned to join the fight.

Up close, the disfigured pirates seemed even more grotesque and unnatural, and it only served to encourage James' wish to be rid of them.

Mere moments later, the pirates were closing in, and, as he and Elizabeth rallied closer to the boat, they noticed William laying unconscious next to Jones' chest.

Even James had to admit that it all seemed rather hopeless.

“We're not getting out of this.” Elizabeth declared.

“Not with the chest.” And he reached for it in a moments decision, ordering; “Into the boat!”

“You're mad!”

He spared her a glance, the wonder of whether he'd ever see her again there and gone before he could truly grasp it. “Don't wait for me.” James demanded, and prayed that Elizabeth would listen as he fled the beach with the chest.

James had fast legs, but only so much stamina, and all too soon the sounds of pursuit grew louder.

Having already planned to discard the chest at a safe enough distance from the beach – so that the others may have enough time to escape – he was dismayed when he tripped and fell into the foliage not nearly far enough away.

When he looked up, he was surrounded.

Slowly, James got to his feet, taking the chest with him. For the first time, he felt a slither of unease race down his spine.

Was this to be his end?

“Your bravery is wasted.” One pirate said, his head resembling that of a shell. “I shall pry the chest away from your cold, dead hands...”

James had no reason to keep the chest any longer, so he threw it to the pirate without further encouragement. “Here you go!” And though his legs and lungs burned, he turned tail and ran onward, praying that they would be too occupied by their victory to follow.

 

 

________

 

 

Cutler Beckett was a sour looking man, James thought when he was lead into the Lord's office at Fort Charles.

Seeing that he was reading over the Letters of Marque, taken from his own person days before, it was doubtful that he'd missed James' signature, and as such, he saw no reason to formally introduce himself. “I took the liberty of filling in my name.”

Beckett glanced up at him, his lips curling almost imperceptibly into a smile that was not kind, but cunning.

He waved James forward. “If you intend to claim these, then you must have something to trade. Do you have the compass?”

James shook his head, ignoring the uneasy feeling that was worming into his stomach. “Better.” And he smirked as he dropped the sack containing his freedom onto the tabletop. “...The heart of Davy Jones.”

Beckett didn't bother to hide the gleam in his eyes as he simply stared at the beating-sack for several moments. “Just so.” He said finally, and then he nodded at Mister Mercer, who moved quickly to remove and stow the heart safely away. “And just what can I do for you in exchange for the heart?”

James levelled him with a stare. “I want my life back.”

Beckett reclined in his chair. “Ah, so you wish to be reinstated at a Commodore. How very unambitious of you.”

James could only blink at him, momentarily at a loss over the turn of conversation.

“Mister Norrington, loyalty is hard to come by in these waters.” He stood then, and moved across the room to pick up a crystal decanter. “Drink?” When James shook his head, Beckett turned and poured two glasses anyway. “I will not be reinstating you as Commodore.”

James' lips were parted in dismay and shock when Beckett turned to face him once more, both glasses in hand. “A service done for me, is one that I repay in kind. And I think that the position of Admiral will suit your loyalty far better. Drink?”

And this time, James accepted, suddenly, and thoroughly, overwhelmed by what he was being offered.

Taking that as a sign of James' acceptance, Beckett have a small, satisfied smile. “You may have already served me well, _Admiral_ , but I expect great things from you yet. See to it that you do not disappoint me.” And he raised his glass in a silent toast before taking a sip.

It was only later, when James was dressed once more in the finery afforded for naval officers, his face shaven, and wig firmly in place, did he realise why he still felt so uneasy.

Guilt.

And by all accounts he shouldn't. He'd willingly betrayed those he cared about, and those he barely tolerated, for this life. And yet...now that he was here, now that his mind had had time to process everything that had happened; it all felt somehow wrong. The unsettled feeling just simply would not go and there was a nagging at the back of his mind that he couldn't quite grasp.

As James looked at his reflection, it seemed as though he was looking at a man who's time had long since past. A man who was almost unrecognisable to him now.

He breathed in slowly and exhaled equally so, smoothing down the rich fabric of his new coat.

Admiral James Norrington. He should be pleased, he had everything he'd set out to accomplish, yet his mind was elsewhere. Notably, on the Pearl and her blasted Captain, and the fact that the next time he saw Jack, it was probably going to be through the cannon smoke that wafted between shots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the end of another film. Still, one to go! :-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this Chapter marks the beginning of At World's End.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

 

_**1738** _

_**Fort Charles, Port Royal** _

 

_**Two and a half months later** _

 

 

“ _The King and his men stole the Queen from her bed...and bound her in her bones. The sea be ours and by the powers...where we will, we'll roam._ ”

James closed his eyes and bowed his head.

The voice singing sounded but a mere boy, one far too young to be facing the gallows for the crimes he had been accused of. No doubt, associating with a person convicted of piracy, rather than piracy itself.

When James had been Commodore he had _never_ hung a child, they shouldn't have to face the capital punishment for the naivety of youth and the poor circumstance of their upbringing. Having known no other way, children _always_ deserved to be given a second chance at life.

However, it seemed that Lord Cutler Beckett did not share his sentiments. In fact, James had quickly come to realise that the man could be just as cruel and callous as even the most unlawful of men. And those sentiments, ones that James considered honourable, the Lord considered weak.

On this morning, James' hadn't been permitted to attend the hanging's, his duty directed elsewhere – no doubt deliberately – and that was why he was stood hidden near an open window on the top floor of the fort, unable to bring himself to look, but listening nonetheless.

“ _Yo, ho, all hands hoist the colours high. Heave, ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die. Yo, ho, haul together, hoist the colours high. Heave, ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die..._ ”

Eyes now tightly closed, James had difficulty swallowing past the lump that had lodged in his throat. This was just so, so... _wrong_. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Admiral? Oh, he'd been stupid indeed. He was an Admiral in name and nothing more, just one more body that Beckett could use to control his armada.

And a disgraced Commodore seeking his redemption had been quite the prize, he was sure.

The thought of how ignorant he'd been was enough to make him sick.

 

 

________

 

 

_**1738** _

_**North Atlantic Ocean, HMS Endeavour** _

 

_**Three months later** _

 

 

“Ah, Admiral.”

“You summoned me, Lord Beckett.” And it cost James a great deal of self control to keep the disdain from his voice.

“Yes. Something for you there, your station deserves an old friend.”

James looked at the table to his left and saw a long, narrow box. Before he even lifted the lid, he could guess as to what lay inside it. And he was right.

Unable to resist, James reverently took his sword from it's case and unsheathed the blade, his heart stuttering as he remembered the day it had first been bestowed upon him. It had been the day he'd been promoted to Commodore, the day he'd proposed to Elizabeth...and the day he'd been reunited with Jack.

The world had seemed so much simpler then, and a more honest one at that.

Still, James couldn't help his small, almost imperceptible smile at holding his old blade. It was still just as fine a weapon as he remembered, the gold filigree gleamed, and it was still just as perfectly balanced in his grip.

“The Brethren know they face extinction.”

Overhearing Beckett's words, James' smile slipped from his face and his sword was forgotten.

“All that remains is for them to decide where they make their final stand.”

Dread curled cold in the pit of his stomach. So this was Beckett's plan, was it? To eradicate all pirates from the face of this world in one fell swoop?

Again, there was that sense of wrongness, and James nearly snorted at his own hypocrisy. Was that not once his own dream? The very thing that he lived and strived for?

He had to ask himself; when was it precisely that his loyalties and beliefs began to change? But then he supposed he already knew the answer to that.

It began with his reattachment to Jack Sparrow, no matter how much he liked to deny it. It ended with Lord Beckett, and the realisation that good men could do evil to rival that of even the worst sort of pirates.

His eyes cut across the cabin and met with those of Weatherby Swann, and the Governor look just as dread-filled as he.

Silent understanding passed between them. Both Elizabeth and William were, undoubtedly, with the Brethren and were now in grave danger. Jack would be with them too, and the thought caused his heart to drop in fear.

Later that night, James moved quietly to the Governor's quarters and rapped softly on the door.

He didn't have to wait more than a moment before he was ushered inside and the door quickly locked behind them.

“Well,” The Governor said without preamble, moving across to the room to a small liquor cabinet. “it seems we've all gotten ourselves into a bit of a mess. Eh, James?” And it was said with an almost light-hearted quality, but the tremor in his voice matched that of the one in his hands, and the glasses clinked as they were rattled together.

James moved to him, and rested one hand lightly against the back of the Governor's hand. “Allow me.”

There was a small pause before Weatherby gave a nod and handed the decanter to James, who finished pouring their drinks.

When he turned, the Governor was sat at a small table, and James joined him, setting both the glasses onto the tabletop.

There was silence for several moments before Governor Swann spoke. “There's no way that we can save Elizabeth, is there?”

James took a deep swallow of the brandy, not bothering to savour it. “I wish there was.” He finally murmured.

The Governor's sigh was a broken rasp. “I thought as much.” He paused. “I don't know how much more of this I can stand.” And in an uncharacteristic display of informality, he removed his wig and placed it beside his glass. “You know, I once thought pirates vile and evil creatures, but I'm beginning to see that there are worse sorts in the world.”

One corner of James' mouth lifted in a humourless smile. “You and me both, Governor.”

Weatherby gave an indignant snort. “I hardly think I can be classed as such any more. What little power I have left is delegated to signing requisitions and-” He took a drink. “execution orders.”

Ah, so the Governor was in much the same position as he; title without control.

“Perhaps...perhaps it would be best if you returned to England.”

“I will do no such thing! Not while Elizabeth remains here. If-if...if she-” His voice broke. “If the worst is to happen...then perhaps.”

James clenched his jaw at the thought of Elizabeth's demise and stood to retrieve the decanter from the cabinet. If only there was some way they could inform her of the approaching danger...

“Is there anyone left whom you can trust to keep your confidence?” James asked him, an idea suddenly forming and bringing with it the excitement of hope.

“A mere one or two at most.”

James bought the decanter back to the table. “Good, we'll use them to send word to Jack Sparrow. If nothing else, he'll see Elizabeth safe.”

The Governor gave him an odd look. “Jack Sparrow?”

“Yes. If she's definitely with the Brethren, then she'll be with him-”

“James.” The Governor interrupted sharply. “Jack Sparrow is dead.”

He'd been in the process of pouring their second glass of brandy, but now the decanter landed with a hard thump onto the tabletop. “What?”

The Governor frowned. “No one informed you? Jack died at the hands of Davy Jones...some months ago now.” He took a sip of his drink. “But even for a pirate, he didn't deserve such a cruel end – are you alright?”

But James wasn't listening. All he could hear was the blood thundering in his ears, his body felt cold and numb, and black spots were dancing before his vision.

_Jack Sparrow is dead. Jack Sparrow is dead. Jack Sparrow is DEAD._

His legs gave out then and he slumped into the chair, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to think. He couldn't breathe.

Jack was dead and all he could feel was the terrible pain that was the gaping hole in his chest.

“James!”

His name, sharply said, broke through the fog of pain and he met the Governor's eyes with difficulty.

“Are you alright? You look awfully pale.”

James went to reply, and first tried swallowing the thickness in his throat, but he nearly choked.

The Governor was frowning at him again, now looking worried. “Do you need a physician?”

James managed to shake his head, jerky though the action was. “I-I...I think I'm in need of a lie-down.” He only just managed to get the words out. “May we continue this tomorrow night, Governor?”

“Of course, James. But is there anything you need?”

But James was already closing the door behind him, desperate in his need to be alone.

He made it back to his own quarters in a daze and locked the door before undressing and getting into bed. All of them mundane and routine tasks that didn't require any thought.

All he _could_ think about was Jack. Of the pirates hair, once loose and soft, then woven and coarse. Of his smile, forever mischievous and up-to-no-good. Of his touch, from light and teasing to one that was firm and with purpose. Of the angular curve to his jaw. Of the brown eyes that saw soul-deep. And finally, of the way he used to call him Jamie-luv, at first in endearment, then later just to get under his skin.

But worse than these, were the memories of their actual time together, both at the beginning as lovers, and then later as foes.

It was near torture to think of them now, but they flashed behind his eyes before he could stop them.

He could still remember the touch, the taste, the smell of Jack. But for how long? Eventually all memories fade.

James rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, unable to stand his grief.

Why he felt such pain? Well, it was obvious, wasn't it? James loved him, had never really stopped loving him. And now that the pirate was gone, and that James was alone, he saw no reason to deny it any longer, not even to himself.

All of the anger and betrayal that had simmered between for years now seemed so redundant, and even more so now that he was beginning to truly understand what made a good man. And one's title or occupation certainly wasn't it.

It all seemed so cruel, to finally understand, yet to be past time to do anything about it.

God, he had wasted _so_ many years, and it was a realisation that settled around him feeling vice-like, suffocating, and cold.

When his tears finally came, it was for the first time in years, and James didn't bother to wipe them, simply let them soak into the pillow as he tried to muffle his sobs.

The cruellest part of all?

Just as he was about to fall into unconsciousness, his tears finally run dry, his mind cast back to the note Jack had left him onboard the Anchorage so many years before. He hadn't kept it, but no matter, he still remembered the words and knew that the last line would haunt him forever.

 

_\- Take care James. Perhaps one day we'll meet again under a different sunset._

 

But no, they never would now, would they?

In the next moment he was angry, furious as he had never been towards Jack.

He rolled over and, as he stared hard at the ceiling, made a new vow.

Even if it was the last thing he ever did, he was going to run Davy Jones through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always really annoyed me that James never seemed to find out that Jack had died, so I just couldn't resist writing my own version that was in keeping with this story. 
> 
> Now I'm off to begin the next chapter, ta!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry once again about the delay, guys. This chapter was a little tricky to write...
> 
> As always, any mistakes feel free to point out! It's very appreciated!

 

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

 

 

_**1738** _

_**North Atlantic Ocean, The Flying Dutchman** _

 

_**The next day** _

 

 

It had been almost too perfect when Lord Beckett had informed him that he was to be stationed aboard the Flying Dutchman.

As Beckett's men stormed the main deck, his heart was pounding near-audibly and his veins sung in their want for vengeance.

However, James was not a stupid man, and it would be very foolish indeed for him to attack the Captain with so many near.

His grief over hearing of Jack's death was still like a knife in his heart, but it was blanketed by anger, and he was grateful for it, as it allowed him to think and act through the pain of loss.

 _So, this is the man who killed Jack._ It was his only thought when he finally came face-to-face with Jones, and he had to fold his hands behind his back to keep from reaching for his sword.

Having seen the other crew, James had had some idea of what to expect of their Captain, but the pirate was even more inhuman than he could have imagined. His face was a mass of moving tentacles that impersonated a beard, his legs were deformed, and a pincer replaced one arm.

Davy Jones was utterly grotesque, and though folded, James' hands shook with barely-there restraint.

“Go. All of you. And take that infernal _thing_ with you. I will not have it on my ship.”

Ah, so Jones had seen the chest, then.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” Lord Beckett said, appearing on the deck. “because I will. Because it seems to be the only way to ensure that this ship do as directed by the Company.”

James' smirk was a small one. He may despise Beckett, but it gave him satisfaction to see that Jones was now little more than a puppet with its strings pulled taught.

Beckett gave James the signal then, and with a nod, the two men carrying the chest followed him from the deck and into the Captain's cabin.

The chest was then set upon a pedestal, and James unlocked it before lifting the lid.

The heart lay inside, unassuming as it beat out a steady rhythm.

As the order was given for the men to charge their bayonets, James had to resist the urge to shoot the heart himself.

But again, he wasn't stupid. He'd heard the rumours of what must happen to whomever killed the heart, and he now took such talk at face value. After all he'd witnessed, he was no longer sceptical of the mysteries of the world.

Oh he still planned on his attempt to kill Jones, but he had no desire to sail the seas for all eternity. He'd just have to bide his time, and as Jack would say, wait until the opportune moment.

Back on the main deck a short time later, he found himself in the presence of Lord Beckett.

“I trust you to make sure that Jones knows his place.” He said to James. Around them, his men were preparing to leave for the Endeavour. “The heart is leverage enough, however, do not hesitate to use it against him should he become...difficult.”

James bowed his head in acquiescence.

“On a more personal matter, our dear Governor has requested his return to England.”

James' gaze cut across the deck to the Governor in question, eyes wide in surprise. “Truly?” And he frowned. Wasn't it just last night that Weatherby had told him he would not leave, it made him wonder what had transpired in such little time to change the Governor's mind.

“Indeed. He is set to leave on the next ship bound for England.” But he said no more on the matter and continued before James could ask. “You'll be hearing from me, Admiral. Until then, keep Jones in his place.” And then he turned on his heel and made for one of the waiting cockboats.

By this time, the Governor had already descended from the ship and was sat in another of the small boats. James suddenly realised they had no time to say their goodbyes.

As he watched the boats row away, he felt his heart sink. James had known the Governor a long time, and already, he missed his trusted friend dearly.

With Weatherby returning to England, Elizabeth somewhere in the company of pirates, and Jack dead, all at once James came to realise that everyone he cared about was either already gone, or leaving.

As he turned about to face the Dutchman's crew, suddenly, he felt more alone than ever before.

 

 

________

 

 

_**Two months later** _

 

 

“I want to see that ship at the bottom of the sea!”

“No.” As Davy Jones turned on him, James merely lifted his chin and met his gaze steadily. “Or have you forgotten Lord Beckett's orders?”

Jones reared back, pincered hand snapping angrily.

James ignored this display. “Capture the ship.” He said distinctly, before turning his back on the Captain and looking ahead to the Empress, watching with keen eyes as they gained on her.

“Roll out the guns!”

“Raise the main topyard!”

“Man the capstan, or it be the devil to pay!”

The orders were given to ready the ship, but James paid no heed, and soon they were abreast of the Empress and the shout was given to fire.

Their cannons sliced through her hull in a plume of splintered wood, smoke and fire. Screams and ragged cries of alarm rang out, but it was too late and they had no time to properly retaliate before the Dutchman's crew were boarding.

Beckett's men followed in their wake, James too, and he was furious to see Sao Feng's crew being cut down before Jones remembered his place, and ordered his men to ease their mindless killing.

Unfortunately, it did not stop the Empress's crew from trying to defend their ship, and several more were cut down by Beckett's men before they were finally captured at sword-point and held at bay.

It was as James was surveying the last struggles, that he saw the last person he ever expected to see.

As she emerged from the Captain's cabin, he was so stunned he could only stand there and stare, until finally gathering his wits. “ _Elizabeth._ ”

“James...” She seemed as stunned as he. “James!” And she broke free from where one of Beckett's men held her and ran to him.

Without thinking he enveloped her in an embrace, her presence like a balm on his soul after the loss of Jack. “Thank god, you're alive. Your father will be overjoyed to know you're safe.”

Elizabeth withdrew then, and looked upon him with a darkening gaze. “My father's dead.”

James frowned at her. “No. No, it can't be true. He returned to England.”

All traces of friendliness were gone from her face. “Did Lord Beckett tell you that?”

And suddenly, he felt the dread of realisation slither up his spine...

But before James could answer, Davy Jones was yelling from behind. “Who among you do ye name as Captain?”

One of Sao Feng's crew then pointed to Elizabeth. “Captain! Her!” And the rest of the crew were fast to confirm it.

Again James could only stare in shock, but then Jones was beside them. “Captain-”

And James interrupted him, and though reeling, he forged ahead. After all, his questions could be answered later. “Tow the ship. Put the prisoners in the brig.” He ordered Jones, before turning once more to Elizabeth. “The Captain shall have my quarters.”

“Thank you, sir. But I prefer to remain with my crew.” And it was said with a coldness that she had never before bestowed upon him.

As she turned from him, James stopped her with a hand on her arm, suddenly feeling panicked at the realisation that he could loose her friendship. “Elizabeth, I swear. I did not know.”

“Know what?” Came the scathing answer. “Which side you chose?” And she snatched her arm from his grip before backing away, looking over him with eyes filled with disappointment and disdain. “Well now you do.”

 

 

________

 

 

In reality, his heart had already made the decision long ago, James had just needed an excuse great enough to pursue it.

When all was quiet aboard the Dutchman, he slunk down into the brig and unlocked the cell door. “Come with me.” But Elizabeth did not move, merely glowered from her place amongst the Empress's crew. “ _Quickly!_ ”

Finally, she nodded her assent and the crew began to file from the cell. “What are you doing?” She asked, coming closer.

“Choosing a side.” He told her, putting as much sincerity into those words as he was able.

Still, she did not move to leave. “Why?”

He sighed and gave her the easiest and shortest answer so as not to dally any longer. “Because your father is dead. Because Jack is dead. I will not see you suffer the same fate.”

A frown creased her brow. “Jack's not dead.”

The mention of Jack's death had slipped from his mouth without thought, but he didn't care, instead he could only blink at her, his heart suddenly thundering in his chest. “What? How? But your-your father, he said so. _”_

“Jack's not dead.” She said again, but her voice was uneasy and it told James that there was a story to be told. However, he had not the time to ask. “Besides, why should you care what happened to him?” This time, she looked upon him with suspicion.

James sighed. “It is a story for another time, now come. _Please._ ”

Her eyes searched his for a moment, but finally she moved from the cell and followed him.

They made it to the stern of the ship without hindrance and Elizabeth ordered her crew to cross the rope joining the Dutchman and Empress first.

Before she herself could cross it, James turned to her. “Do not go to Shipwreck Cove. Beckett knows of the meeting with the Brethren, I fear there may be a traitor among them.”

Her gaze was as hard as the set of her jaw. “It's too late to earn my forgiveness.”

“I had nothing to do with your father's death.” He implored and prayed she would believe him. “Though it doesn't absolve me of my other sins.”

“Come with us.”

James looked up sharply, and although her jaw was still set, her eyes were glassy with the beginnings of unshed tears. “James, come with me.”

And though she may not have forgiven him exactly, it was clear to see that she wouldn't leave him to face his fate as a traitor.

He knew then that, though angry, Elizabeth still cared, and his relief was like the crashing of waves against rock.

“Who goes there?” The shout from above startled James, and he quickly pulled Elizabeth behind him, withdrawing his sword.

In that moment, he knew that those brief, fleeting images of following her would never come to pass. “Go! I will follow.”

“You're lying.”

He looked at her, and knew without doubt that he would never see her again. Or Jack. The realisation of what would come to pass should have panicked him, but instead he felt an odd sort of calm.

“Will you do something for me?” His words where hurried, urgent. “I do not deserve it, I know this. But please, I beg you, no matter what...will you give this to Jack?” And before she could react, he leant in, and kissed her.

When James withdrew her eyes were wide with shock, but he could say no more as footsteps were approaching. Their time had run out.

“Go! _Now!_ ”

And she did, but James didn't watch, instead he turned to face the crewmember who appeared before the stern. “Back to your station, sailor.” He demanded, his voice steady, though pulse rapidly increasing.

“No one leaves the ship.” It was said almost offhandedly, yet James eyed the wooden spike he held with trepidation.

“Stand down.” He said distinctly. “That's an order.”

The man looked down, his voice almost a whisper as he repeated James' words. “That's an order...part of the crew...part of the ship.” And suddenly his voice began to increase in both volume and speed. “Part of the crew. Part of the ship. _Part of the crew! Part of the ship!_ ”

“Steady man!” And James knew then that it was fruitless. This man wasn't of sound mind.

“PART OF THE CREW! PART OF THE SHIP! _ALL HANDS! PRISONER ESCAPE!_ ”

James withdrew his pistol. “Belay that!” He ordered, overcome with fear that Elizabeth wouldn't make it to safety.

“James!” And there came her voice, a stream in the dark amongst the lapping of waves.

He looked about and saw her hanging from the tow-rope. To his horror, she began to claw her way back to him.

He had but an instant to pray that she didn't drown, before he raised his pistol and shot the rope free.

He turned back quickly, but was too late. A moment later, the wooden spike pierced his abdomen and his breath rushed from his lungs on a pained gasp.

“ _James! No!_ ”

He barely heard the shout as his legs gave out from under him, and he slumped against the rail.

His breath was coming in panting gasps now and he felt cold, sluggish even.

Between one blink and the next he was surrounded by Jones' crew, but the humming in his ears prevented him from hearing what they said.

He was dimly aware that the pain was receding now, but felt his breath become harder to draw as the cold enveloped his entire being, leaving him numb.

Suddenly, Davy Jones was before him, and though it was like listening underwater, he heard every word the pirate spoke. “James Norrington, do you fear death?”

And with the last of his strength, he lifted his sword and thrust, running Jones through.

He wouldn't die of course, but his vow was complete. He might even have smiled had he the strength. As it was, his head was too heavy to lift and it thumped back against the rail.

As his vision dimmed and his limbs grew heavy, his last thoughts were of Jack, and he prayed that his pirate would be safe.

And then, with one final shuddered exhale of breath, James Norrington knew no more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...deep breath. 
> 
> I love you, guys, please don't flame me yet.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long! My work hours have been all over the place this week due to staff holidays and I didn't get as much time to write as I normally do. 
> 
> Anyway, here it is. I hope you enjoy.

 

**CHAPTER NINE**

 

 

_**1739** _

_**Caribbean Sea, The Black Pearl** _

 

 

 

Lord Beckett was dead, as was Davy Jones. The battle was done, and young William had become Captain of the Flying Dutchman.

In a single day, most of Jack's troubles had been defeated.

Should he have been happy? Yes.

And he was, if not for the heaviness of his heart and the sluggish whirl of his melancholic thoughts. Thoughts and memories that continuously replayed over and over in his mind. Primarily, seeing Will lying there, dying, with a sword protruding from his chest. However, it wasn't William's last moments as a mortal that saddened him, but rather the sword that killed him itself.

Jack honestly didn't know how he'd not realised it before that fatal moment, how he'd not recognised that sword from the very moment he'd been taken aboard the Dutchmen.

Jamie's sword.

His James may not have had it in his possession last they met, but the question was; how did Jones come to possess it?

Jumping to conclusions he may be, but that didn't stop the feeling of dread from settling like rock in his stomach.

Jack fought to swallow past the growing tightness in his throat, and at hearing footsteps, looked up just as Elizabeth was approaching to say her final farewell.

“Jack,” She greeted, and she looked almost teasing. “it would never have worked out between us.”

It was harmless flirting and her words drew a smile, though it was half-hearted at best. “Keep tellin' yerself that, darlin'.”

Her own smile was edged with sadness and a touch of nostalgia, but when she leaned in to embrace him, Jack drew his hands up to stop her.

“Once was quite enough.” And they both knew he was referring to when she cuffed him to the mast and left him to the Kraken.

To his surprise, she didn't appear offended and merely met his gaze steadily. “Thank you.” By that, he knew she meant everything, and no more needed to be said.

She turned away, heading towards the small row boat that would take her ashore to William, but to his surprise, she suddenly stopped before boarding.

“Jack...before I go, there's something I need to tell you...” She glanced about uneasily. “in private.”

Jack frowned at her as the lump in this stomach only grew in weight. Though why, he couldn't say. “And just what could be so important, that you would sacrifice yer time with our dear William?”

She looked about once more, licking her lips in a clear sign of nervousness. “ _Please,_ Jack.”

Finally, he nodded his acquiescence and on quick feet, guided Elizabeth towards his cabin. Once the door closed behind them, he turned to face her, leaning back against the table, expectant.

“Jack, I-” She came closer, fingers entwining and twisting together with discomfort. “When I was captive aboard the Dutchman, I...ran into James Norrington.”

Having been in the process of reaching for a bottle of rum; at hearing this, his hand slipped and the bottle was knocked from the table. Unbroken and still corked, it rolled away, but Jack paid no attention. He was suddenly frozen, and with effort, lifted his eyes to meet Elizabeth's once more.

“He was working for Beckett. An Admiral.” She continued, gaze intent on his face. “But he saved my life. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have made it. In the end, he chose a side.”

Jack could scarcely breathe. “In the end...?”

There were tears in her eyes now, and he knew what she was going to say before she uttered the words. “He died, Jack.”

Jack broke her gaze and eyed the floor. It was only because of a lifetimes worth of practice, that he managed to keep his expression somewhat neutral. Inside, his knees were weak, his breath no longer there, and heart; breaking.

So his James _was_ dead then, it seemed he hadn't been jumping to conclusions over the sword after all.

“Jack, I-before died, he asked me to give you something.”

It was near impossible to meet her eyes, but eventually, he did so.

“I'm not going to pretend to understand, but he was adamant that I give it to you. It was his last wish...”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but no words came forth, so he merely dipped his head in a single nod of acceptance.

Elizabeth's lips were warm and soft, and entirely unlike his Jamie's.

A moment later, unable to stand it, he broke the kiss with a bow of his head, his eyes tightly closed against the sudden filling in his eyes – unaware of the lone tear that had escaped to trail over his cheek.

If Elizabeth said anything after that, he didn't hear it, only became distantly aware that he was alone sometime later.

It was a long while before he could move, and his actions were stiff when he finally retrieved the bottle, but unusually, he didn't drink a single drop.

Placing the rum firmly upon the table, Jack headed onto the main deck and took charge of the helm. The rough wood of the Pearl's wheel providing more comfort in the face of his grief than rum ever could.

 

 

________

 

 

_**Three weeks later** _

 

 

“Granted it tends ta lean ta port and has been, on occasion, known ta frighten young women-”

The two strumpets, one under each arm, giggled.

“-but I promise you, you will not be disappointed.” And neither would Jack, if his plan played out how he intended.

“Is that it?” Giselle asked as they neared the end of the dock.

“The Black Pearl?” Scarlett seemed equally disappointed as they looked upon the small boat fixed to its mooing.

“It's not very big.”

Jack fought for patience, reminding himself that their lack of brains was the very reason why he'd chosen them. “Luv, that is a dinghy. My vessel is magnificent and fierce and hugh-ish and...gone. Why is it gone?”

“Is that it there?” Giselle asked.

Jack squinted, looking out towards the horizon. “Yes, there it is. Why is it there?” Giselle and Scarlett shared a look and Jack hurried to reassure them. “It's much larger up close.”

“Oh Jack, you promised to take us for a ride.” Scarlett whined.

“I was to be given first ride.” Giselle told her, indignant.

“What? You?” But Jack not longer listened, having spotted Gibbs lying upon the dock, fast asleep.

Untangling himself from the two strumpets as they began to argue, he walked over and, without preamble, poured the rest of his rum over his First Mate's head.

“Mister Gibbs? Any particular reason why my ship is gone?” He asked once the other man had spluttered to consciousness.

“The ship? We're on the ship.”

Jack only had to wait a moment.

“Jack! The ship's gone!”

“ _Really?_ ”

Before any more could be said, the sound of Giselle and Scarlett's cries rose, and when Jack turned, saw that the two women had broken out into a womanly brawl.

Since he no longer needed their – unknowing – services in distracting Barbossa while he carried out his plan, Jack wasn't going to put up with listening to them any longer.

“Ladies! Will you please _shut it_. Listen to me.” He turned to Giselle. “Yes, I lied.” Then to Scarlett. “No, I don't love you.” And now between them in turn. “Of course it makes you look fat. I've never been to Brussels. It's pronounced 'egregious'. By the way, no, I've never actually met Pizarro, but I love his pies. And all of this pales to utter insignificance in light of the fact that my ship is once again _gone_. Savvy?”

Once his rant was over, he braced himself. Sure enough, Giselle's slap cracked across his cheek, a second, courtesy of Scarlett, followed almost immediately.

Since this entire situation was bought on by his First Mate, it seemed only right that Gibbs have his share.

Before the other man could then strike Jack in retaliation, he conceded defeat, both of them knowing it was well deserved, after all.

Their eyes met with a hint of a smile, and just like that, all was forgiven...mostly.

“Take what you can.”

Jack smirked. “Give nothin' back.”

Knowing the time had come to part ways, with one last fist-knock, Gibbs departed and set off after Giselle and Scarlett; the two strumpets seeming to have reconciled as quickly as they'd begun their argument.

“Tell me ladies, what do you know of sea turtles...?”

Now alone on the dock, Jack turned his eyes towards the horizon, gazing wistfully after his Pearl.

Without his ship, his plan had become, in equal parts, both more difficult, yet also easier. But no matter, Jack still had his compass, the dinghy, and the cut portion of map that he'd stolen from Barbossa. In reality, he had everything he needed to set out on his quest. And so, he made quick work of gathering supplies and readying the small boat for sail.

His journey would take infinitely longer without his Pearl, but his goal was more than worth the time.

A short while later, set off into the open sea.

 

 

________

 

 

“Yo ho, yo ho. A pirate's life for me.” Jack first sang and then hummed, quietly to himself as he unrolled the stolen map.

With a victorious smile, he looked over the illustrations and words, rotating the outer ring until the images lined up.

 _Aqua De Vida_.

The fountain of youth.

If nothing else, Jack was a determined soul. And very soon, he would taste immortality and sail the seas for all eternity. Of course, he'd also be getting his Pearl back in the process.

However, there was an even more pressing matter that he had to attend to first.

“We're devils and black sheep...really bad eggs.” He continued to sing, flipping open his compass and watching as the needle swung about before settling.

It turned out that he wanted rum, but once that desire was fulfilled, the needle moved again until it settled quite firmly on his final destination.

“Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!” And he grinned, taking a draught of rum as his blood began to thrum in anticipation.

Soon.

_Very soon..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh...the end of At World's End. Sad, but true. 
> 
> Also, just one last chapter to go! 
> 
> AN (updated 18.04.2018):  
> I would like to apologise to all that the final chapter is taking so long to be written! It's been a bit of a hectic year between a broken laptop, renovating a house and starting a new job. But I'm now in the process of psyching myself up to start writing again for the first time in months and months!! Hopefully the finalle wont be much longer!  
> Once again, sorry and thank you for your patience.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ,,,Deep breath. Here we are at last, the final chapter, a long time in coming.  
> Fingers crossed you'll like it, enjoy...

 

**CHAPTER TEN**

 

 

_**1740** _

_**South Atlantic Ocean, Unnamed Sloop** _

 

 

"What are you doing, Jack?"

With an undignified squawk of alarm, Jack fell from the thwart aboard his modest boat.

Freeing one hand from the tangle of stolen blankets, Jack tipped back his ice-encrusted tricorne to glare at the other pirate. "How on earth did yer get aboard me bleedin' boat?"

William ignored him. "What you seek is forbidden."

Ah, so Elizabeth had told dear William of the kiss. It seemed the Dutchman's Captain had pieced together the rest.

Staggering upright with a bottle of rum in one hand, Jack pulled the cork with his teeth before spitting it away. "Aye. But that didn't stop yer before, did it?" And he took a deep draft from the bottle.

Seemingly unperturbed by the freezing temperatures, William's breath did not mist as he sighed. "This is not the same and you know it. He is at peace now, Jack. You were not."

"So yer just expect me ta leave him there?"

William said nothing, just regarded him with unreadable eyes.

"If it was yer Bonny-Lass, you'd just leave her ta rot in the Locker?"

William's jaw tightened.

"Ah! So you wouldn't!" Jack crowed through chattering teeth.

"And what if he wants to stay?" William suddenly asked, warning in his tone.

Jack met his gaze steadily, but didn't answer.

"I cannot stop you, Jack. But I will not allow him to leave the Locker, unless it's of his own free will. Are we clear?"

Jack simply saluted him with the bottle of rum.

In the next moment, William was gone.

 

 

________

 

 

_**Davy Jones' Locker** _

 

 

Fine sand lay at his feet, an abundant jungle stood behind, while blue skies stretched endless overhead, mirrored on the rolling ocean below.

James found that he was never too hot nor too cold, even though somehow dressed in his old Commodore uniform. He never felt hunger nor thirst. Was never tired or physically fatigued. Ever comfortable, he wanted for nothing.

But James hadn't always been here. There was a brief existence of darkness and torment, before his awakening in this almost tranquil paradise. Though his memories were blurred and fraught with holes, James knew that his coming to this place was the work of William Turner, now Captain of the Flying Dutchman.

Sitting himself upon the sand, wig removed and forgotten, James stared out to sea, watching at the days and nights past, blurring together until it could have been weeks or years since he arrived on this shore.

Grateful to William though he was, this empty existence of nothingness was one James couldn't stand.

Eventually, he just closed his eyes.

And undefinable amount of time later, his solitary life was interrupted.

"Now that's a sight, innit, Jamie?"

Breath catching in his throat, James slowly lifted his eyelids.

Nothing but the sea and sky stretched before him, the blue fading into shades of orange, pink and yellow, growing richer in colour as the sun sunk deeper towards the far horizon.

A figure, though surely only of his imagination, moved into James' line of sight.

"And here I thought you'd be happy ta see me, luv." And there stood Jack, looking just the same as James recalled. An achingly welcome sight to behold.

James staggered to his feet, eyes wide with disbelief as he drank in the sight of his former lover. "Jack?"

The pirate grinned, gold teeth glinting in the dying sunlight. "Aye, luv. Who else were yer expecting?"

James made a aborted step forward, arm half raised as if to touch, still uncertain if what his eyes were showing him was truth.

Arm falling to his side, James swallowed. "How are you here?" He couldn't say how he knew for certain, but James simply _knew_ that Jack wasn't dead like he.

Jack spread his hands. "Not so hard ta find yer way here once yer already been."

And it was then James noticed the tension held in the pirates shoulders and the way his eyes shifted about in clear unease.

"But why are you here."

Jack tilted his head. "I'd have thought that obvious, mate. Ta rescue you."

James sucked in a sharp breath, heart clenching painfully. "You can't rescue the dead, Jack."

"Well, that's where yer wrong, luv." And he began walking toward a small sloop pulled ashore further down the beach. "Now, look lively! We've-"

" _Jack_."

The pirate came to a stop, his back to James.

"This is madness, I can't go back. What's there for me any more? My life is over." And James could see the straight line of the pirate's back as he stiffened.

"There's more ta life than the navy, James."

And Jack's voice was gravelly, serious in a way he'd never heard before.

James turned his gaze to the sea. "It's all I've known."

"But it's not all you can be."

His eyes flicked to Jack, the pirate's back still turned, and then away. "I don't know how to be anything else."

"I'll help you, luv."

James took a deep breath, before slowly releasing it. "And why would you do that, Jack? Why would help me? Why come here at all?"

"Our dear Elizabeth gave me yer kiss. I decided I couldn't leave you ta such a fate." And Jack turned to him then, gaze as equally sombre as his tone. "Though in truth, it seems I didn't want ta live without yer, luv."

James reared back, mouth opening and closing without a sound leaving his lips. Before he could reply, the pirate stepped close, eyes an almost honeyed-brown in the sunset.

"You still own me heart, Jamie. Always have, always will."

James' breath hitched, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

With one raised eyebrow, the question was a silent one.

"And you, mine" James finally choked out, before surging forward to claim Jack's lips with his own.

It felt like coming home.

A nimble hand wove into James' hair as their kiss deepened, tongues sliding together and bodies pressed firm.

A groan was uttered, but by whom, neither knew. There was only heat and a desperation that spoke of grief and too many years apart.

With a final brush of lips, James drew back, but only enough so that he could bury his face within the woven lengths of Jack's hair.

"Come on, luv." Jack's voice was quiet and gravelly in his ear. "Come back with me."

Could he? Could James really go back with Jack? Could he live the life of a pirate, and become a pirate's lover? Could he really, truly leave behind all those years worth of hatred and betrayal?

The answer was a surprisingly simple one.

By the time they made sail from shore, the sun had sunk almost completely into the horizon's embrace, painting the sky an almost violent shade of pink and red.

As the last light faded from the sky and the stars of another world bloomed overhead, James found his gaze transfixed upon his lover's face. Sixteen years had been wasted between them, sixteen years of hatred and betrayal.

Well, no more.

As Jack caught his eye, a smile already curving the pirate's mouth, James made a vow. A vow that, come good times or bad, he would never let his hatred of piracy cloud the love he felt for this man.

After all, there were worse men out there than the likes of Jack Sparrow.

 

 

_**Fin** _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that it folks. All done and dusted now.  
> I hope you weren't disappointed by how it all came about, but I thought it was a fitting end. 
> 
> P.s I didn't want James' experience in the Locker to be like Jacks, and in my mind William gave him a better time of it due to his saving Elizabeth. 
> 
> Hope to 'see' you again in future works.  
> Ta, ta!


End file.
